“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, staring at the bubble-filled tub.
“I know,” he says. “I wanted to. I used one of the bottles left behind that smelled like lavender. I hope that’s okay.” His wings stretch slightly. He removed his jacket.
The way his words stumble betrays his nerves. He’s never done something like this for me, I had handmaidens to do it. He’s offering me one of my favorite creature comforts to make me feel better, and my heart is near bursting with love for him.
I slip into the tub and dunk my hair before sitting back up.
“How is the temperature?” he asks. I still detect a note of self-consciousness.
“It’s, uh, great,” I say.
He scowls.
“Okay, it’s a little cold, but it’s still lovely,” I say, sweeping up a handful of bubbles. I blow them at him with a grin.
Still scowling, he crosses over to me and crouches down. Meeting my eyes, he drops a hand into the water, careful not to touch me. Again, his face is so close to mine I’m tempted to do something tremendously dumb.
The water warms around my body as we are trapped in a stalemate of closeness. As I stare into his inky dark gaze, I imagine his hand drifts to my thigh and then slides over it to touch me between my legs. I bite my lower lip as my inner muscles contract.
The heat in his eyes tells me he’s thinking an equally naughty thought.
I want him to pump into me until my knees shake and I break on his hand.
“Is that good?” he asks quietly. Again, his wings flex behind him in tandem with his round shoulder muscles.
It takes an impossibly long time for me to realize he’s asking about the temperature of the water. It is now near scalding, butmy skin has warmed and it’s exactly how I like it. “It’s good.” My voice is raspy.
He pulls his hand out.
“Thank you.” The words come out a bit strangled.
Talon swallows and nods, though he looks like he’s in pain. He rises to leave, but I don’t miss the way he adjusts himself as he goes.
Once I’m alone, I sink all the way into the tub with a long-suffering sigh. I still don’t know if having Talon here is either the best safety net…or the most masochistic idea I’ve ever had.
My clothes are in a heap on the floor where I dropped them the last few days, while Talon's jacket hangs neatly on the door hook.
The bubbles close over my shoulders in a comforting shawl. The lavender envelops me, soft and familiar.
I stare up at the ceiling, water lapping gently at my skin, the heat doing nothing to ease the ache that’s formed in my chest.
My mother would have swooped in to comfort me tonight, would have had the servants draw this bath with her favorite lavender oils. She'd stroke my hair and tell me I didn’t have to worry about a thing. That it would all be taken care of for me.
My father would have already fired whoever let me struggle, replacing them before I could protest.
They never let me fail. Maybe that's why I'm so terrible at it now. The thought makes me miss them and resent them in equal measure.
I wanted a new life. One that was mine.
Turns out, it comes with shopping sprees, dance numbers, dropped drinks, and a healthy dose of humiliation. But some things don’t change—like the temptation that cuts so deep it scrapes bone.
“No use,” I whisper, eyes squeezing shut.
I can have a new life. A new me. But I’ll never havehim.
And after all these years, I still can’t make peace with that.
I dunk my head beneath the water, trying to drown the voice saying I never will.
