“Thanks,” Fox called, and Winter could only grunt as he continued toward the bathroom. He had a feeling it could be very easy for Fox to get into a hell of a lot of trouble in less than five minutes, and he was hoping the witch didn’t try to prove him right.
Closing the door behind him, Winter dropped his bag onto the floor and was a little surprised that the small tiled area wasn’t a total disaster area. Fox was apparently a neat guy. The only evidence he’d used the shower was the damp towel hanging on the rack, water drops on the shower door, and the complimentary bottles of soaps that were now in the shower stall rather than by the sink.
He reached inside the shower stall and turned on the water before daring to look at himself in the mirror. Wincing, he quickly looked away from the dark circles under his eyes and messy hair. He looked pale even for a vampire. It wasn’t that he needed to feed. He’d been sure to do that prior to leaving Hartford. No, this was all stress. He was worried about his family, worried about Damon’s eminent attack, worried about whether he’d be able to save the people he loved. The ghosts seemed to be even more agitated recently, refusing to give him even a moment of peace if he wasn’t already sleeping. Except for recently.
And now he had a fucking prisoner he had no clue how to deal with.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Winter nearly jumped.
“You want me to order any food for you?” Fox asked through the door.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You sure? A nice burger and fries? Or some pizza?”
For some reason, Winter found himself smiling at the playful tone of Fox’s voice. He’d only gotten tiny glimpses of it so far, but he had a sneaking suspicion that this was the man’s natural personality when he wasn’t being threatened and running for his life.
“No, Fox. I’m good.”
“Are you a vegan vampire? I can order you a salad.”
“No.”
There was a little rattle of the door as if the man was now leaning against it. “You’re not planning to nibble on me, are you?”
“No. Absolutely not,” he replied sharply. He definitely wasn’t going to bite Fox. Winter only drank from low-life criminals who deserved a good scare in life or his random hookups. Fox did not fall into either of those two categories.
“You sure? I might be yummy.” Fox’s voice had become a taunting singsong.
“Go, Fox! Go order food!” Winter snapped, fighting to keep his voice hard.
The door rattled again as if Fox had moved away from it, and silence followed. Winter waited and as he’d expected, Fox’s lilting voice drifted from the other side of the door again.
“Would you like me to wash your back? I’m happy to get all those hard-to-reach areas.”
This time, Winter let his laughter fill the bathroom. The man was fucking incorrigible.
“I’ll even get in the shower if I must,” Fox continued, sounding as if he were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice just for Winter.
“I don’t deserve your saintly generosity,” Winter called. “Go order your damn food.”
There was what sounded like a soft huff, and Fox muttered something about not being properly appreciated, but he moved away from the door. Winter shook his head before he stripped off his clothes and stepped under the hot spray. He washed quickly, not wanting to give Fox enough time to come up with a new reason to disturb him.
Though, for just a second, he was tempted to let him try.
Part of him had itched to jerk that towel away and explore every inch of the man’s sleek body. Or to pull the naked man into the stall, where he could feel the slick slide of skin against him.
Winter swallowed a groan when blood started rushing south. He didn’t need this right now. He moved the water temperature over to cold and finished rinsing. Fox was not a snack. He wasn’t an outlet for sexual release. He wasn’t family or a friend. For now, he was a prisoner—one Winter needed to get more information out of so he could determine if he truly was a threat to his family.
Fox seemed like a nice, fun guy, and Winter didn’t want to kill him. There were times where he reminded Winter of Ethan or River. Both of his brothers’ mates laughed easily and often. And Winter would do anything to keep them safe.
It didn’t matter if Fox was a nice guy. Didn’t matter if he was completely innocent. If he was a threat to the Variks, Winter would end his life without further hesitation.
Chapter 8
The food arrived not too long after Winter stepped out of the shower, looking squeaky clean and lickable. Hell, he looked lickable when he was dirty and tired. The vampire was always lickable, and it wasn’t just because Fox was hungry again.