Greer growled. “A taste first, love.”
“Nay,”Vor snapped. “He gave you what you asked for. Now do asheasked.”
Greer glowered. “Had I known he’d be that easy, I’d have demanded more.”
“But you didn’t,” Vor said. “Such is your luck.”
Greer shook his head, smiling at Snow. “I’ll ask for more next time.”
Chapter Four
Snow stared down into the enormous, steaming tub, a nervous flutter in his lower belly. It felt safer to stare there than to watch Vor’s clothing disappear across the room. His eyes refused to listen to reason, though, and kept drifting of their own volition, catching wide expanses of tanned skin with every peek. His breath caught each time, the sight too tantalizing. All that muscle and sinew. He wanted to trail his fingertips over it and feel the power move underneath them.
He was accustomed to pampered princes and noblemen—all with skin as pale as his own and no real muscle to speak of. Only coarse workmen basked in the sun all day and were near as large. They were the type of men hewasn’tsupposed to desire.
But those roughhewn men he saw working the docks and around the kingdom had always caught his attention, with their big, strong bodies and sun-kissed flesh. He’d often wondered if he would taste sunshine if he nibbled on their bare skin. Perhaps Vor would allow him a sample to ease his curiosity.
Curiosity about that… andmanymore wonders if he was brave enough to ask.
Vor spun away from the fire Greer had lit in the small fireplace. At first, the bedroom had been cooler than the great room they’d all gathered in, but between the now raging embers and the heated water, it quickly rose in temperature.
Seeing Vor naked helped, too. Snow was flushed and flustered, his body responding even more than it had in the woods. Slick coated the insides of both cheeks, his hole throbbing with the need to be touched.
Vor’s bottom was full and round, his back muscle upon muscle, forged from fourteen years of throwing his shining silver axe day in and day out.No wonderhe was so immense. Snow’s heart broke for the many years Vor had lost to the wizard’s cruelty. Forced labor had created a beast of a man.
A beast whose tender touch had soothed his wounds.
Snow watched with rapt attention when Vor slid the leather tie out and a cascade of silken black hair fell across his back. Jealousy clutched at his heart, as well. He’d tried to grow his hair long, but his tight, spiral curls had only spread upward and outward. The Prince Consort had claimed his hair was caused by hisspoiledbloodline, mixed with raiders who’d claimed omegas from the Southern Shores and North Ifriqiya. Snow hadn’t quite understood why that was a bad thing, but from the Prince Consort’s tone, he’d assumed it was.
His papa had had tanned skin like Vor’s but had never spent more than a few minutes in the sun that Snow could remember. For some reason, Snow had gotten his father’s pale skin, not his papa’s glorious light bronze. Not a day passed where he didn’t wish it had been the opposite. He saw so little of his Papa when he looked in the mirror. He could scarcely remember the warm face that had smiled down at him with such love.
That love, on the other hand, he wouldneverforget, no matter how many years passed.
A good thing, too. After the Prince Consort had arrived, all the paintings of his papa had disappeared, and Snow feared he’d forget everything. When he’d asked why they’d been taken, he’d been ignored. Snow had searched the castle high and low, never finding any sign of them. Their absence made it harder to remember the small details.
Vor turned, pulling him from his wandering thoughts. As soon as his gaze landed on Snow, Vor frowned. “You can’t get in the bath fully clothed.”
Snow barely heard him, though. His gaze had traveled down to the thick vine swinging between Vor’s thighs. He struggled for air, his body tingling all over. Several more drops of slick slid down his thighs, pooling at the backs of his knees.
Vor’s nostrils flared, his cock somehow getting even thicker than before. The tip peeked from its fleshy sheath, quite red and angry looking. Perhaps Snow should’ve been scared. He felt far from that emotion, though. He licked his lips, quite willing to soothe that angry head and taste the seed pooling at the tip. It grew harder by the second, veins popping along the surface, and it soon jutted in front of him, tilting towards Snow.
Snow forced his gaze up to Vor. “What did you say?”
Vor scoffed, a small smile curling his lips. He shook his head and crossed to the tub, the muscles under his skin working in perfect harmony—a panther prowling closer. After slipping into the water, he sat staring at Snow, his eyes darkening with lust.
“Your turn.”
“Myturn?” Snow asked, too addled-brained from sneaking peeks at Vor’s monster poking up through the surface.
“Take your clothes off,” Vor replied. A few beats of Snow’s heart passed as Vor eyed him from head to toe. “So I can clean your wounds.”
Snow gripped the edges of his tunic, hesitating. His fingers curled, balling the fabric in his fists. To desire was a delight. To be bold enough to actually fulfill that desire was another.
“Takeyour clothes off,” Vor repeated a bit firmer the second time.
Snow trembled, the need to obey overtaking him. After he slipped off his torn, knee-length trousers, he found there was a bit of his leggings left underneath. They’d split up past his knees, the bottoms halves long gone except for a few threads left behind. Eyeing Vor, he peeled off his frayed tunic and was finally left in his thin, linen undergarments that left little to the imagination.
“Those, too,” Vor commanded softly.
