Zayne POV
The steam in the bathroom was so thick I could barely see my own hands, but I could feel Alexandra. She was a constant, pulsing heat at my back. As the hot water sluiced the grime of the Vane territory and the copper tang of blood off my skin, the roar in my head finally began to fade into a hum.
I sat on the edge of the marble tub, my head hanging low, as she worked. She was silent, her touch clinical yet impossibly tender as she dabbed antiseptic onto the gashes on my shoulder. Every time I winced, I felt a corresponding spike of sympathy-pain through the bond.
"The bleeding has stopped," she whispered, her voice still raspy from the days she’d spent screaming at the gym mats.
"It's the bond," I rasped, leaning back into her touch. "Even though it hasn't 'snapped' by the Co
