Chapter 70 Not So Innocent
[Nyx]
I did, and felt his hands on my back, the warm water and gentle pressure working out the tension.
He washed my hair next, his fingers working through the tangles with surprising gentleness. The shampoo smelled clinical—hospital standard—but his touch made it feel like something more.
When he rinsed my hair, I closed my eyes and let the water cascade over me. In his arms, I felt completely safe. Completely cared for.
"Turn around," he murmured.
I obeyed, and his hands settled on my shoulders. Then he started to massage—not just casual touches, but real, deep tissue work. His thumbs found every knot, every point of tension, working them out with practiced precision.
A groan escaped me before I could stop it. "God, that feels good."
His fingers dug into a particularly tight spot between my shoulder blades, and I nearly melted.
"You're good at this," I said, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck. "Like, really good. Did you take a massage course or something?" I glanced back at him with a teasing smile. "Wait—did you learn this specifically for me?"
"Shut up and enjoy your shower."
But I caught the faint curve of his lips. The slight pink on his ears.
"You did, didn't you?" I pressed, delighted. "You actually—"
"Nyx." Warning.
"That's so—"
His hands found a pressure point that made me gasp and arch forward. "I said shut up."
I bit back a laugh and obeyed, letting him work out the knots in silence.
"Stand up," he said softly. "I need to finish."
I stood, gripping his shoulder for balance. He washed my legs, his hands moving down my thighs with that same careful efficiency. But I felt it—the slight tremor in his touch. The way his breathing had changed.
My gaze dropped. The wet scrubs left nothing to the imagination. He was hard. Visibly, unmistakably hard.
A tired, mischievous smile tugged at my lips. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through me. Maybe I just needed to feel something other than fear and cold.
My hand slid down, palm pressing deliberately against the prominent bulge straining the soaked fabric.
Lysander went completely still.
"Nyx." His voice dropped an octave. Warning. "What are you doing?"
"Hmm?" I kept my tone innocent, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Just... helping you with a problem."
His hand shot up, catching my wrist. Firm. Not painful. But definitely stopping me.
"You," he said slowly, amber eyes darkening to gold, "can barely stand without my help. Every muscle in your body is screaming." He leaned closer, breath hot against my ear. "So unless you want to be even more sore tomorrow—and trust me, I can make that happen—I suggest you behave."
Heat flared low in my belly despite my exhaustion. The promise in his voice was unmistakable.
I bit my lip, pretending to consider. "Rain check?"
"When you're not about to collapse." His grip on my wrist tightened fractionally. "Then I'll remind you exactly what you started here."
"Looking forward to it."
He released my wrist with something between a laugh and a growl, returning to washing my legs as if nothing had happened. But I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. The carefully controlled movements.
I'd gotten under his skin. Good.
When he was done, he wrapped me in a towel with perhaps a bit more force than necessary, his touch still gentle but edged with restrained desire.
"Better?" His voice was almost normal again.
"Much." I smiled up at him. "You're very thorough."
"Don't push your luck."
But there was warmth in his eyes despite the warning. Affection mixed with exasperation.
He dried me off and helped me into the clean clothes—soft resort casual wear that felt like heaven against my clean skin. His own scrubs were still soaked through, clinging to every muscle, evidence of his arousal still visible.
"Your turn," I said. "You need to change."
"After I get you settled."
"Lysander—"
"After." Final. Non-negotiable.
He carried me back to the bed and settled me against the pillows, his movements controlled but charged with suppressed energy.
Only then did he strip off his wet scrubs—completely unselfconscious, letting me watch as he dried off and pulled on clean clothes.
We met Damon in the hallway outside Lilith's room. He looked as exhausted as I felt, worry lines carved deep around his eyes.
"Thank you," he said simply. "For saving her. For not giving up."
"She's my sister," I replied, meaning it. "I would never give up on her."
His expression softened. "She's lucky to have you."
And you're lucky to have him, I thought, watching the way his gaze kept drifting back to Lilith's door. Someone who stayed through a second avalanche. Who was willing to die for you.
We left him there, this Alpha who loved my sister enough to risk everything.
The SUV was warm, the engine already running when Lysander helped me into the passenger seat. His hand lingered at my elbow, making sure I was settled before closing the door and rounding to the driver's side.
The mountain road stretched ahead, fresh snow coating everything. Beautiful. Peaceful. Deceptive.
We drove in silence for several minutes. Then we passed near where the avalanche had hit. The scar was visible even from here—a massive white gash cutting through the mountainside, raw and brutal.
I couldn't look away.
"That young man," I said quietly. "From Silverpine Pack. He was so young."
Lysander's hands tightened slightly on the wheel. "Twenty-two. Just twenty-two years old."
My throat constricted. "If we'd arrived sooner—"
"This wasn't our fault, Nyx." His voice had an edge to it I couldn't quite identify. "It was Selene's. If she hadn't insisted on that skiing route, if she'd listened to the weather warnings—"
"She's always been... reckless," I sighed, thinking of Damon's spoiled sister. "Too playful, never taking danger seriously." I paused. "But I don't think she meant for anyone to get hurt."
Silence stretched between us. Long, weighted silence.
I glanced over. Lysander's jaw was tight, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Like he was holding something back. Something that wanted to explode out.
"Lysander?" I touched his arm gently. "What is it?"
He exhaled slowly, the tension not leaving his shoulders. "Nyx... Selene isn't some playful little girl who doesn't understand consequences."