It always was his best gift.
“Well, you're lucky we have one room left for the night. I suppose I can give it to you—your father has always been a good patron. Don’t let it happen again,” she says, reaching under the bar to fish out a key.
The large keychain it hangs from has a number nine on it, and I try not to exhale too obviously. Nine is my lucky number, given to me by my father on the day of my birth. I look out for it wherever I can, and seeing it here now is all I need to know about our safety.
Pemba looks at it and then glances over his shoulder at me, the grin still on his face as he sees the omen as well. He hands the key to me, and I slip it into my pocket, ready to head to the room and lie down on a real bed for the first time in far too many days.
Pemba thanks the barkeep one last time and then walks me through the common area, intent on getting me away from all the strange folk we're surrounded with as quickly as possible. Our coven has helped and healed many different folk over the years—I’ve interacted with many of them—but that was always within the safety of our home.
This feels different, dangerous, and I want to lock myself away as quickly as possible.
We head up a second set of stairs and find the small room we've been allocated easily enough. There are two small beds, and Pemba lets me pick the one I want and then stashes the pack under his own. There's a faint smell of animals, as though the last occupant was a farmer whose scent still clings to the space, but the sheets are clean enough and the downy, feathered mattress underneath me is all I need to feel to know that this night is a great gift to me, one I won't be able to forget once we go back to sleeping out in nature.
I strip out of my boots and jacket and step into the small connecting bathroom only to find a large bathtub full of hot, steaming water waiting for me there. There's magic to it, I already know, but the mechanics of it mean nothing to me because it’s quite literally beenmonthssince my last proper hot bath. They were a luxury back home, one we didn't partake in very often, and the squeal of joy that rips out of my lips has Pemba cackling like a fool behind me.
“Go on, enjoy your bath. I'll take the berries downstairs to see if I can make a trade for dinner, and I'll have a bath when I get back,” he says with a grin, and I duck forward to give him a quick squeeze.
I shouldn't keep reminding him, but I find I can't help myself. “If there is one good thing that we still have after losing everything, Pemba, it's each other. I don't know how I would do this without you.”
The moment Pemba leaves the room, I strip and climb into the tub. The water is just shy of scalding, the perfect hot temperature for a soak. The groan that escapes my lips is almost obscene, so much so that I'm thankful my brother isn't around to hear it.
Every ache and pain in my muscles melts away as I tip my head back and submerge myself fully under the water. There’s a small shelf of vials next to the tub, and I pull the lid off each of them, one by one, to take a sniff. They’re bath oils, simple enough in their makeup, and all of them are cheaply made, but I appreciate having access to them to scrub myself clean.
I select the one that smells simply of rose and use it to scrub down, going over myself twice to be sure I’m clean. Only once my skin is pristine do I let down my braids and give my hair a scrub as well. I was so worried about visiting the Seer looking unkempt, and now, as long as I'm careful, I should make it to her looking respectable.
I can honor my mother’s last wishes in such a way.
Where are you, croí?
The voice startles me so much that I drop the vial into the tub, cursing under my breath as I fumble to pick it back up. There wasn't much left in it anyway, but it still feels like a waste as I place the empty bottle back on the shelf.
We’ve made it to our lodgings for the night. I'm enjoying a soak,I send back, blushing furiously at the idea of this man knowing that I'm naked right now. I’m still a virgin, but I’ve shared intimacies with Donn before, small and illicit moments in the dead of the night when he’d felt my restlessness through our connection. Does that count as sexual experience? He was with me, feeling what I was feeling and flooding my mind with his own desires, but the idea of him seeing me naked still sends fire racing through my blood.
It doesn’t quite feel real yet, like a secret fantasy I’m exploring privately instead of foreplay with the man who inhabits my mind from time to time.
There's a pause before he answers me, my heart pounding in my chest at the silence.
All it takes is a soak to make you this happy? Where do you come from, little croí?
I swallow roughly. Has my joy really reached him, or is he closer now than he's ever been before? Part of me hopes he's hunting for me and that I will find safety in his arms, but there's another part of me that knows this is dangerous.
I need to learn my fate before I lose myself in a man.
I'm a simple woman, you should know that by now.
I don't know how, but he sends a deep, inviting chuckle to me, something that seems inconceivably difficult for me to do in return, but shivers course down my spine at the sound of it.
Dark and tempting.
There are a lot of things I would give you, croí, if only you would tell me where you are.
I don't know if it's because I'm so relaxed in the tub or if it's because it's the first time I have truly been alone with his voice in my head, but I find myself being bold, or maybe brave, or even just reckless.
I send back to him,What things? Tell me. What would you do with me, Donn?
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the list of sensual acts he sends back to me has my toes curling against the edge of the tub, my hand slipping down my belly until I reach my core, my fingers pressing into my clit as his voice fills my mind. It feels indulgent to have the whole room to myself, no chance of being interrupted, and instead of the rushed act of pleasuring myself when everyone else in my house was asleep or if I found myself alone in a quiet place in the forest, under the stars, I can just enjoy the quiet sensuality of the bathtub brimming with hot water.
Donn realizes quickly what I’m doing, and then his words change into demands, clearly detailed instructions on how he wants me to touch myself, how many fingers he wants me to plunge into my wet pussy, and the pace he wants me to take. He takes over completely, allowing me to empty my mind and think of nothing but doing what he says, following his every command with eagerness. Sex isn’t something that witches shy away from, but this feels a thousand times more intimate than the stories I heard back at our village. The awkward fumbling first times of my friends never sounded as sensual and pleasurable as this, and when I finally come, it’s at Donn’s command, and his praise has the blush on my cheeks spreading down my chest.
