Midnight Moonrising (Moonrising #2)(62)

Mena pressed her lips together then nodded. "Fine. Let me out."

Phoenix eyed her stony expression, and let the regret he was feeling show in his own features as he unlocked the cage door and let her out.

Without looking at any of the men, Mena walked out of the cage and left the room, leaving them all standing there looking like jackasses.

Phoenix sighed heavily as he responded to Rhodes' text message.

Mena was feeling sick, too. Roel brought her to my house. Must be a bug going around or something. Get some rest and meet us at her residence at 7:00 p.m.

He hit send, then walked to his chamber.





Chapter 33



Mena





So much for being happy, I thought as I closed myself inside Phoenix's bathroom and started a bath, adding a generous amount of the bubble bath Lea had stocked for me.

Looking in the mirror wasn't going to happen, not until I got all of Dana's blood off my body. I couldn't imagine my dreams would be pleasant for a long while, either. Even though I wanted to tell myself that my wolf was the one who had done all the killing, I knew it was a lie.

I had wanted her dead, and I hadn't tried to stop the wolf from taking every drastic measure she had in destroying someone who had wronged us.

What kind of person did that make me? A bad one? Of course it did. The remorse was threatening to choke me while my wolf was gloating inside my head about her first kill. Wait—Marc had been our first and Chris had been our second, so I guess Dana would make our third. Regardless, Marc and Chris' deaths had only happened because I was trying to defend myself, while Dana had been murdered, slaughtered, ripped apart; it was cold-blooded murder and I knew it. Her blood was still on my hands. That's what was eating me alive on the inside. I knew there would be more. My wolf was itching for more. How many more would it take to drive me over the edge?

"Shut down my emotions, please," I said to her through my thoughts. "I don't want to feel anything right now."

She didn't respond with words, but I could feel the grief and anxiety slowly slip away from my body and mind. I sighed in relief as I sank down farther into the hot water and bubbles.

A soft knock sounded from the door, but I didn't tell Phoenix to come in. I knew him well enough—an invitation wouldn't be required. I didn't have anything to say to him that I hadn't already said, but the door was opening, so I assumed he felt our conversation wasn't over.

I didn't even care anymore.

To my surprise, he shut the door and pulled the t-shirt over his head. I didn't freak out, but I was curious.

"What are you doing?" I said as I stared in admiration at that perfect torso.

Letting the black fabric slip from his fingers, he didn't answer me as he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. I was prepared to find him wearing boxers or maybe even boxer briefs but, boy, did I get a shock when that denim fell down around his ankles.


My brow popped up as my lips twitched at the corner. "Commando, eh?"

He shrugged as he kicked the shoes and jeans from his feet. After taking his socks off, he walked to the bathtub and just stood there, looking down at me. It hadn't gone unnoticed by me that he hadn't said a word since he came into the room. There was something else that hadn't gone unnoticed by me, a big something, and it was right at my eye level.

It could have been the hot water that caused my cheeks to flush, but why lie to myself?

Despite being in the room with a naked woman, he wasn't erect, not even a little bit. Did he have that much control or did he not find me attractive anymore? I wondered why he would even come into the bathroom and strip in front of me if he didn't intend to seduce me. This man was so confusing.

Since two things were really obvious, one being he had no interest in talking yet, and the second being that he wanted to get in the bathtub with me, I did what any smart girl would do in my situation and raised up so he could step in behind me.

That was all the invitation he needed, and after he got settled in behind me, one leg stretched out on either side of me, he took a folded washcloth from the built-in shelf in the wall, dipped it in the steaming water, lathered it with the body wash that smelled like sandalwood, and then began to cleanse my skin with it. I loved the fragrance—it smelled just like him, but there was also a sweeter smell that came from his skin, a smell that I knew could never be bottled and sold. It was like a pheromone to me. I was addicted to his scent.

I thought about being a smartass and saying something like 'I'm fully capable of washing my own body,' or 'I'm supposed to be mad at you,' but all that passed through my lips was a moan of approval when he dropped the cloth and his magic fingers began kneading the muscles in my neck, shoulders and back.

I realized in that moment that he was giving me what I needed. He was always trying to give me what I needed: security, safety, encouragement, helping me find my courage, helping me solve my problems, helping me defeat my inner demons—or wolf, in my case—and just being there for me. He had always been there for me. It had backfired and we had bumped heads more times than I cared to mention, but he was always there, helping me through everything and giving me what I needed. And this time wasn't any different. I had just taken the life of one of my pack members and he somehow knew that I was hurting inside and needed him to just be there for me.