Page 44 of Black Sea

I washed myself, grimacing because the soap had made my skin feel rough. At least now I was definitely clean and smelled good.

I turned off the tap, wrung out my long blonde hair, and took the towel from Amlach’s hands, wrapping it around me.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” he said, staying planted on the shower threshold.

I attempted to cover my shoulders with my hair, resigned to the fact that I couldn’t do anything about my legs, which were bare from the knee down. “Ready,” I said softly.

Amlach stepped aside, and I snuck into the next shower stall to hide from the guards. Amlach undressed, and I kept my eyes on the clothes he had left on the floor as he washed himself.

Trying not to think about the fact that he was naked beyond the wall separating us.

When he finished, he turned off the water and, without any shame, walked over to the chairs. I watched the streams of water trickle down his hairy calves and the wet halo forming around his feet as he rubbed his hair with the towel and then wrapped it around his hips.

At that moment, a pretty and curvy young woman with a thick braid of brown hair and sun-kissed skin entered the room. She held two pairs of leather boots in one hand and balanced a stack of clothes—on top of which sat a wooden jar and a pair of scissors—in the other. Unlike the girl who brought us the towels, her bracelet and collar were made of bronze, similar to the matriarch’s.

“I brought clothes and shoes for the newcomers,” she said in a saucy way. “And Lotte wants me to cut the man’s beard and cure his burns before you take them to the Master.”

Slow, slimy smiles appeared on the soldiers’ faces.

“Please, Ysia,” spoke the fifth guard with a gallant gesture.

She walked between the guards—clearly aware of their lustful gazes—and set the folded clothes on one of the chairs and the boots on the floor. Then she cut a seductive look at Amlach. “If you want to sit down . . .”

He raised an eyebrow and peered at me out of the corner of his eye. “Sure,” he then said, sitting on the chair.

My heart started to kick furiously against my ribs.

The girl grabbed the scissors and shamelessly shoved her way between Amlach’s sprawled legs.

Something inside me turned over like a snake.

The young woman began to shorten Amlach’s beard, her full lips slightly parted in an inviting manner.

Amlach breathed in and made a sound of appreciation that made me seethe. “You smell good,” he remarked softly.

“It is a jasmine oil that I use all over my body,” she replied, pleased that he noticed. “Makes my skin feel velvety.” Boldly, she took his hand and slid it under the side slit of her dark red tunic, closed at the waist by an ocher belt. “Don’t you think?”

Amlach’s dark gaze shifted my way. “I’d say so,” he answered, and I saw his hand under the fabric as he stroked her buttock.

I felt a sharp pain in my middle finger. That’s when I realized I had gripped the top of the wall on my right with one hand, tightening my hold so much that I broke a nail.

The slave moaned as Amlach’s fingers moved more to the center of her backside, and one of the men groaned with pleasure. Feeling nauseated, I realized this little show had excited them so much that they had lowered their crossbows and forgotten about my presence.

Amlach also looked at them, but the young woman touched his damp chest to regain his attention.

“Don’t worry,” she said in a caressing tone. “The guards like to watch me fuck whoever I want in this house.”

“And now you want to fuck me?”

Their vulgar language made me want to vomit, and when I saw Amlach raise his other hand to brush her big breast with the back of his fingers, I found myself grinding my teeth like a beast.

Ysia dragged her hand down Amlach’s tight abdomen. “You don’t?” she asked back maliciously, the tips of her fingers on the hem of his towel.

A roar rose from the depths of my being.

A word. A word that I refused to repeat in my thoughts.

A word that inflamed my blood.