Soon could not come soon enough.

But no matter how Ash’s blood burned with impatience, there were tasks to be done. That was the price of being the leader—those you led instinctively looked to you for guidance, out of habit, out of trust. And a good leader never let his team down.

He could tell his men were riding the razor’s edge after all that had happened—the false, brittle high of adrenaline that came from sustained, intense stress. If they stopped for a moment, they would collapse.

So he didn’t let them stop. He assigned and organized and ordered, with the same calm tone of voice that he’d used through countless fires. He held them together.

And as for himself…he had Rose. Her warmth in his soul was all the strength he needed.

There was no further opportunity to speak, let alone do anything else. She was busy, providing a focus for the women as he did for the men, keeping them occupied with bright, cheerful encouragement.

But every time they passed each other in the corridors, they could share a look. A stolen smile, a swift caress. Every glance, every touch, stoked the fire in him higher.

He had waited twenty years. Yet waiting this final day nearly killed him all over again.

He found an outlet for his frustration in personally scorching away every trace of the warlocks. Both he and his inner animal took a deep satisfaction in that. He reduced even the iron cages to smoke and cinders. No shifter would ever be trapped here again.

By the time Hugh emerged, exhausted but triumphant, to report that mother and newborn were doing well, both menagerie and mansion were scoured clean. Only blackened stones and a rapidly-dispersing pile of ash showed that anything had happened here at all.

Even once they arrived back at Shifting Sands Resort, there were tasks. Explanations and apologies—unsurprisingly, Chase’s version of events had left much to be desired in terms of clarity. It took several hours for Ash to more fully explain matters to Scarlet, the resort manager. She wanted to know everything about the warlocks—especially how to recognize them, and their weaknesses.

“I do not know if the danger is fully passed,” he admitted to her. “Their leader is dead, but there may still be others remaining, in hiding. And they know about this place now.”

“And now I know about them.” Scarlet leaned back in her office chair, a dangerous glint in her eye. “If they come here again…they will regret it.”

He almost pitied any warlock who tried to set foot on Shifting Sands in the future. He couldn’t tell what manner of shifter the strange, red-haired woman might be, but there was no doubt that she was formidable.

Formidable, and also generous. She waved away his offer of payment for overnight lodgings. “You are our guests,” she said firmly. “It’s low season, anyway. We have plenty of cottages free.”

Then she wrinkled her nose, pointedly looking at his crumpled, soot-streaked uniform. “We also have excellent showers.”

He took the hint. A discreetly attentive staff member, Breck, showed him to a large, charming cottage , and politely but insistently waited until he handed over his filthy garments. From the way the man carried them away at arm’s-length, Ash suspected he was going to burn them rather than clean them.

Which left him trapped in the cottage with nothing but a towel. Shifting Sands might be a clothing-optional resort, but he was very much not a clothing-optional person. Especially not with Rose delightfully, insistently intruding into his thoughts every five seconds.

He took a shower. A very, very cold one.

He was still standing under the pounding water, attempting to scrub the soot from his hair, when he heard the cottage door open. “On the bed, please,” he called out, assuming—hoping—it was Breck returning with some form of clothing.

Instead, the warmth of the mate bond shone against his bare back like summer sunshine. “Only if you’re going to join me.”

He swallowed a mouthful of soapy water, whipping round so fast he nearly lost his balance. Rose smiled wickedly at him from the doorway of the bathroom. A short red dress caressed her curves and brought out the rich ebony of her skin.

“Or if you prefer…” She slid the thin crimson straps down over her soft shoulders. “I could join you.”

His mate, his mate.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely.

He just meant it as yes to her—yes, oh yes, always yes—but she took it as invitation. Her dress fell softly to the floor, puddling around her bare feet.

Desire leaped through him at the sight of her. And now, now she could feel the effect she had on him. Knew exactly how every inch of her arrested his breath and set his heart to pounding in his chest.

Her smile widened. She sashayed forward like the goddess she was, allowing him to worship her with his gaze. She stepped into the shower…and shrieked, leaping back.

“That’s cold!” she exclaimed, hugging herself. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. “Ash, why on earth are you taking a cold shower?”

Her indignation was adorable. He found himself grinning, foolishly. “Because I was thinking about you.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, an answering smile tugging at her lips. “Was it helping?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Her eyes flicked downward. Her smile crooked, delightfully. “So I can see.”

He reached for the shower dial, twisting it to hot. At the same time, he let a little of his power rise, heating the air.

“If I promise to warm you up,” he murmured, as steam wrapped around them both, “will you still join me?”

“Mmm.” She stepped forward. “Close your eyes. You still have soap in your hair.”

Part of him—a very specific part—would much rather have pushed her up against the wall then and there. But the sweet anticipation singing down the mate bond told him that she was enjoying taking her time, drawing out the moment. And, truth be told, so was he.

He’d waited twenty years. But he found he could wait a little longer.

He tipped his head back under the hot water, closing his eyes. The hard peaks of her nipples brushed against his chest as she stretched up, and he bit back a growl. She laughed softly against his throat, kissing his collarbone.

“Wait,” she commanded. “Let me get you clean first.”

Her strong fingers worked through his hair. Her touch was simultaneously provocative and soothing, firing his blood even as his muscles relaxed. He stroked her in return, running his hands over the wet curves of her shoulders, her back, her hips.

Still keeping his eyes closed, he ducked his head. He didn’t need to be able to see to capture her mouth. She hummed in pleasure, tilting her face up to him, water running over both their faces.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jawline, the hollow behind her ear. “My turn,” he murmured.

Reaching for the soap, he lathered his hands. The heady, sweet scent of roses perfumed the air. He stroked her shoulders, down her arms, relishing the smoothness of her skin. He took her hands, cupping them in his own.

“Mmmm,” Rose sighed, as his thumbs rubbed strong, slow circles over her palms. Her eyes drifted closed. “That’s lovely.”

“You’re lovely,” he whispered, drawing her closer.

He soaped his hands again, this time rubbing the foaming lather over the long sweep of her back. She purred, arching into his touch. He stroked her until every muscle was loose and languid, her body boneless against his.

Her hands moved over him in return. Suds ran down the center of his chest, trickled across his abdomen, dripped lower. He was so hard even that light touch was exquisite torment.

He knew she felt his surging desire. He could feel how every drop of water hit her sensitized skin as well, how his trailing fingers made her own heat rise.

It became a game, to go slowly. To see how slow they could go, before one of them snapped. Inch by inch, stroke by stroke, washing each other with painstaking thoroughness. No more darkness between them, no more charred ash and blackened secrets. Just the simple, clean truth of the mate bond.

“Ash,” she gasped, her breast pressing into his palm. “Ash!”

His fingers circled between her thighs, dipping into her hot slickness. She broke first, clenching around him as ecstasy swept over her.

The mate bond lay as open and ready as her body, dry tinder awaiting a spark. He could lift her now, slide into her, make her blaze…

He pulled away from her instead, bracing his hands against the shower cubicle. Before, that would have made her hesitate, wondering whether she had done something wrong. But now…now she just opened her eyes again, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she sensed his inner struggle.

“Ah,” she said. “You don’t want this to be over too quickly.”

“I want to be able to do you justice.” His breathing was ragged. “Just give me…a moment.”

Her tongue ran over her lips. She gave him a look that jerked his shaft to even stiffer attention.

“No,” she said slowly. “No, I don’t think I will.”

He gasped as she wrapped her hand around him. He collapsed back against the tiled wall, momentarily blinded by sensation.

And then her mouth slid over him.

All thought went up in smoke. All he knew was the exquisite heat of her, the play of her tongue, the softness of her lips.

He wound his hand into her hair, hips jerking upward uncontrollably. In mere seconds, he was coming hard, in great, shuddering spurts, emptying himself deep into her welcoming mouth.

Rose pulled back, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I have wanted to do that for a very long time.”

His legs were still shaking. He took her hands, pulling her up, crushing his mouth against hers. He kissed her long and deep, wordlessly telling her everything.

The water abruptly ran cold. Rose yelped. He slammed the dial round so fast the handle snapped off in his hand. He was left holding it, no doubt looking rather ridiculous, as she dissolved into giggles.

“Well, good thing we got thoroughly clean,” she said. “Since it doesn’t look like the shower will be working again anytime soon.”

“I am going to owe Scarlet yet another apology.” He balanced the broken handle in the soap dish, for lack of anything better to do with it. “But it was worth it.”

Rose had wrapped herself in a towel, but she was still shivering. He went over to her, folding her in his arms, and concentrated.

“Oooooh,” she sighed, relaxing as the wave of heat enveloped her. “All right, I forgive you for breaking our shower.”

He nuzzled her wet hair, breathing in her delicious scent—the perfumed soap mixing in with the richer, underlying warmth of her. “Will you forgive me for not being in my twenties any more?”

She shot him a quizzical look. “I’m not in my twenties any more.”

“You aren’t a man.” He gestured downward, rather sheepishly. “You did rather too good a job in there. I may need a little time to recover.”

She giggled again, nestling against him. “We have all the time in the world.”