She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Mine tonight? Baby, you’re mine forever.”

“Then let’s go upstairs. I need a good bath and then I need you.”

“Healing waters I can do. Stay here a moment and give me a head start.” She leaned up and kissed him tenderly. He closed his eyes at the sweet pressure of her mouth on his, his body going tight as a bowstring with the need to be one with her. She broke the kiss with a slow groan and murmured, “I’ll see you upstairs.”

When he opened his eyes, she was gone. For a moment he saw the inside of his prison cell in his mind’s eye. He heard the drip, drip, drip of the water. Smelled blood and demon magick. For a heartbeat he wondered if this was just another dream, one of many he’d had in the dark of night while he’d been tucked away in a place somewhere between here and there. Then the library came into focus and he sighed in relief.

He stepped forward, sifting through the papers that Isabelle had been leaning over. Apparently, they’d been trying to find a way to get back to Eudae and break him free. He let his fingertips rest on the texts, his thoughts straying to Claire and how wistfully she’d looked at the doorway while absolutely refusing to step through. Isabelle looked exhausted. Apparently, she’d been working nonstop, but maybe their labor hadn’t been in vain.

Those were serious considerations for tomorrow. Tonight he just wanted the woman he loved.

Thomas made his way upstairs to his room to find she’d left the door open a crack for him. He pushed it the rest of the way, stepped inside, and breathed in the familiar scent of his Coven apartment. Nothing except Isabelle had ever smelled so good. Steam rolled from the bathroom doorway.

He walked into the puff of the steam, then stopped short just inside to take in the best sight he could imagine—Isabelle naked in a pool of water, waiting for him.

Life didn’t get better than this.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. Water lapped at the curves of her breasts and beaded on her throat. He wanted to lick those water beads off, one by one.

He shed his clothes and slid into the welcoming heat of the bath with a groan of pure satisfaction. Instantly, the water moved in ripples and waves around him, massaging the lingering ache of abuse from his body. That was one of the benefits of being in a bath with a water witch.

Isabelle moved across the tub and fitted herself against him. Slick wet skin slipped across his, tightening his every muscle. She started with his hair, dripping shampoo into her palm and massaging it through the uneven length. “Bastards tried to strip your power.”