Page 70 of Drown Me Gently

He opened his mouth once, twice, to say something. To demand Ulric tell him⁠—

But each time, Ulric would catch his hand, spin him into a new adventure.

“This way,” he’d say. “You’ll love this.”

And damn it, Auren did.

The day passed in a haze of simple pleasures, until Ulric pulled Auren aside just as they were leaving the market.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the surprise you’re owed,” he said with a smirk.

Before Auren could ask, Ulric led him deeper into the town, toward luxurious streets closer to the city’s heart. The storefronts became grander here, lined in carved wood and polished brass, colorful awnings stretching overhead like banners.

They stopped before an extravagant shop of silks and linens, and Auren’s mouth fell open. Mannequins dressed in shimmering suits and gowns stood proudly in the windows. Embroidery glinted in the afternoon sun.

“Come,” Ulric said, taking Auren’s hand warmly. “It’s time you were dressed properly.”

Inside, tailors swarmed the moment they entered. Auren barely had time to stammer a protest before he was swept into a whirlwind of measuring tapes and bolts of fabric. He was dressed first in a shirt of impossibly fine linen—cool cream, tailored to perfection, clinging like poured water. But it was the piece that followed that stole Auren’s breath.

The corset.

Rich emerald, the exact hue of his scales. It gleamed in the light, threaded with subtle metallic accents that caught and shifted with his every breath. It looped over one shoulder only, the opposite side tucked beneath his arm in a clever asymmetry that made it feel more like armor than fashion. Heavy ropes bound it to his body, crossing in intricate knots along his ribs, while polished metal clasps bit into the thick material, holding it firm. The weight of it surprised Auren, another testament to the rich quality of the cloth. Auren ran his hand over the fabric, half in awe. The color. The feel. It was like wearing a memory. Like his past self was stitched into the seams and tied around him.

Auren flushed as he caught Ulric’s gaze lingering a little too long at his hips, a look so openly hungry it made Auren’s knees threaten to buckle.

And Ulric⁠—

Fucking gods have mercy

Ulric was dressed in all black, fitted to every hard inch of his powerful body. The high collar and silver fastenings only made him look more dangerous, more untouchable.

And Auren wanted very much to touch.

As they were about to leave, Ulric said, “Wait. One more thing.”

Auren turned, and Ulric pulled the whalebone pin from his hair, letting the black waves tumble around his broad shoulders. He stepped forward and gently pinned it in Auren’s hair instead, his fingers brushing the back of Auren’s neck.

“I like to see you in something of mine,” Ulric murmured, inspecting him with a sweep of his dark eyes. “It’s not as nice as… well, the other gift you’ve worn. But I hope you’ll wear it.”

The vulnerability in those black eyes, as though Ulric didn’t know if Auren would accept such a humble gift, made his heart squeeze. Auren leaned in, standing on tip-toe to place a chaste kiss on the Kraken’s cheek.

“I’ll cherish it.”

They made their way further into the city, and as the buildings grew more elaborate, Auren’s excitement mounted. Marble facades, high sweeping arches, intricate carvings of horses, gods, and sea creatures twined around stone pillars. It faintly reminded him of home.

Finally, they reached a grand structure, its entrance flanked by tall statues of muses draped in flowing robes.

The Royal Theater.

They queued in line behind a scattering of elegantly dressed couples, Auren craning his neck to take it all in. The wide velvet banners, the way music floated from inside.

But Ulric shifted, dropping Auren’s hand.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Stay here,” he said, suddenly stepping away and disappearing into the crowd. His hand grabbed the satchel at his waist, and Auren’s stomach twisted at the shake in his fingers. Ulric looked ready to be sick as he dashed behind a corner, shoving a few passersby out of the way.

Auren frowned, noting the bout of dizziness. It was the second time that day. Ulric was going to take another one of his tonics to ease the discomfort and didn’t want Auren to see. Auren fought the urge to follow, regardless of Ulric and his stubborn pride. But he kept his feet planted, stepping forward as the queue grew shorter.

A few moments later, Auren sensed a presence step behind him. A man in a velvet coat sauntered up, far too close, his smile oily.