“Let me help you,” I said, softly.
Miranda’s full lips parted a moment before closing. Knowing her, she was caught between saying no or she didn’t need help from anyone. Playing dirty, I yanked the blanket off her. Then moving in a most unthreatening manner, my fingers went to the hem of her shirt.
I waited, silently asking for permission. Though she still remained pensive, she lifted her arms as I pulled the shirt off.
Fucking hell, her nipples tightened in response to the cold air. I wanted to taste them again. But I wasn’t a beast in that respect. I would never maul her when she was in such a state. Not until she was just as hot and willing as the last time.
As Miranda pushed off her pajama pants, she swayed again. I grabbed her, keeping her upright. It also brought her naked body flush against mine. The heat of her chest on mine felt so fucking good.
Her eyes turned up to meet mine. They were bleary and bloodshot, but I could see a heat behind them. “I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” I assured her. Still, I walked backward, drawing her with me until we were next to the sudsy water.
She licked her lips, slowly, and I expected her to kick me out any second. “Let me help you in.”
“Okay.” The word was so soft, I needed to rely on my supernatural hearing to catch it.
I held her hand, guiding her into the half-filled tub. Bubbles built at an incredible speed. She sank into it with a groan, and her shivers intensified. With her knees up she leaned her head on them as if trying to warm herself.
“C-can y-you hand me that wr-wrap?” She asked through chattering teeth, pointing to the counter.
I grabbed the purple silk cloth. Miranda had already begun to twirl her braids up into a bun. Before she could stop me, I put the cloth over the back of the bun and tied it in the front.
“Is the water too cold?” I asked, watching her continue to shake.
“I’ll warm up soon. You can go.” Her voice was strained. But I didn’t want to go. Instead, I grabbed a hand cloth and dipped it in the water. I smoothed it over her back, trying to help warm her. Her lids fluttered shut as I continued the ministrations.
“This is really weird,” she said, cheek resting on her knees, eyes still closed.
“I’ll say,” I muttered in agreement, watching the water rivulets trickle down her perfect smooth skin. Then I set the rag aside and raised my fingertips over the water. I drew it up in a sheet over her back, like a cloak. To keep the water from cooling, I directed it into a continuous running fountain so hot water was always covering her skin. I became mesmerized by its motion over her strong, elegant back.
Cracking one eye open, she said, “I’m still convinced this is some kind of fever dream.”
“Do you often dream of men bathing you?”
“That is none of dream Xander’s business,” she slurred.
I failed to suppress a smile. Miranda was in a bit of a delirious state. I liked it far too much.
Over and over, I wet the rag in the bubbles before running it over her back in tandem with the water I commanded to surround and caress her. Steam curled up from water and around her body, obscuring the mirror. It wasn’t long before she stopped shivering and her breath evened out.
Something in my chest squeezed so tight I almost wondered if Bob hadn’t run me through. Being alone all these years, I’d been denied companionship, physical touch, and the ability to care for another. My fingers dipped through the layer of water to stroke down the bare flesh along the ridges of her spine. Having the opportunity to indulge all three, it made me feel…important, connected, and mortal.
Or how I imagined a mortal might feel.
Truthfully, I was bitterly jealous of humans. Their lives were so much more precious than immortals simply because they were finite. They were a song with a beginning, a middle, crescendos, and refrains before they ended on a furious dramatic timbre, or on a soft fading note. An immortal's life was continuous, monotonous, and unchanging. We didn't age, we didn't die, and we didn't have the opportunity to experience that same level of meaning.
This was beyond dangerous, but I was so far away from that basement, that cage, and the version of me that knew my place.
Something stung behind my eyes, causing my lip to curl. Each time Miranda had buried her blade inside me, she’d left a piece of her in there as well.
I lifted the dozing woman out of the water, waving all the moisture away from her body with my power, sending it back into the tub so she was instantly dry. I carried her to the bedroom. She didn’t rouse from slumber, even as her arms curled around my neck. The tightness in my chest twisted tighter. Laying her down in her bed, I pulled the sheets up and around her. Then I slid in next to her.
She moaned and turned to wrap her arms around me. Her body molded into mine, a perfect fit.
“Miranda,” I said just above a whisper. I half expected her not to hear me.
“Mmm?” she didn’t open her eyes.
