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“Rarely.” I grab the things he’ll need, making haste so I don’t keep him waiting.
“I don’t have maids. It might be something you have to get used to.”
“I think living is enough for me. I’m just grateful to not be on a troll’s dinner plate right now.”
Sebastian snorts, and I turn my arms full of items he’ll need, but I nearly drop them when my eyes connect with enough skin to know he has no shame.
“How does this normally work? Do I just get in? I’m not familiar with the royal way of… Well, everything. You’ll have to teach me.”
I let the air out of my lungs, blinking long and hard before training my gaze on the floor. “You just get in and I’ll set this stuff down and pump the water into the tub. It’s up to you if you’d like to be in it when the water comes or not.”
There’s a squeal of skin against porcelain as he steps inside, leaning back against the edge and letting his arms rest along the lip. That’s as much as I’ll allow myself to notice.
“What now?”
Lifting my gaze, I find him relaxed back against the edge of the tub, arms resting on the curved lip of it. I feel my cheeks turn beat red before I can stop them–honestly, I doubt I could–and Sebastian’s mouth warps into a toothy grin.
“You’re the most awkward woman I’ve ever been naked and alone with.”
“Sorry.” I set the things in my arms down on the small table near the tub and move to the foot of it, where the handle to pump the water is. The metal whines as I start to pump, trying harder than ever to not look at him, even though my eyes keep deceiving me and drifting.
“It’s okay, you know,” he says, but I don’t respond. Instead, I start pumping the water in faster. “Scarlet, look at me.”
Halting, I let out a breath and prop my hands on my hips, turning only my head. “I suppose it’s going to happen at some point.”
He chuckles, turning his head ever so slightly to drag his fingers across his jaw. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. But if you pump that handle any harder, it’s going to break.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I know what is supposed to happen tonight. I’ve been schooled my entire life for it.” Allowing myself to look, I take in the dark inky lines on his chest and arms. Ships, skulls, and various other symbols twisted together into a delicate web. The hard planes of muscle they wrap around… I’ve never wished to lick a man, but I have this odd desire to trace those lines with my tongue.
This is a problem.
My gaze drifts lower.
A big problem.
I resume pumping the water, locking on to the dimple in the wall paint like my life depends on it. I shouldn’t have looked. There are some things in my life that I’ll have to say goodbye to and sex will be one after tonight. The spell to conceal my mark takes a coven of mages to cast. I won’t have one to replace it when it fades. I have three days until the moons block the hell flame again, and then my mark will be visible. Looking, allowing myself to daydream, wanting… All of those things will just get me in trouble. I will do my duty, but nothing more than what is required of me. Doing anything more than that will only make me crave his touch again. Which can’t happen if I don’t want him to see my back.
The water sloshes and a flash of skin appears beside me. I close my eyes. He’s too close…
“You should be bathing.”
“Keep pumping like that and I’ll drown in here.”
“Very well…” I step away from the pump, but as I start to link my hands behind my back, he catches my arm, yanking me closer. My arms flail as I try to regain my balance, latching on to him for support. “What did you do that for?”
“Don’t pretend to be my wait staff. I don’t have servants or maids. I don’t expect my women to play the role either. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Now, why won’t you look at me? Do I not appease you? You had no issues doing so when we danced. Do you just prefer elves?”
My eyes meet his as my eyebrows scrunch together. “No, none of that. I don’t care what you are and I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn’t attracted to you.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?” His head tilts to the side and the gentle stroke of his thumb reminds me that he’s yet to let go of my arm.
“I’m trying to be respectful of your privacy.”
“Don’t,” he whispers, his hand dragging down my arm until his fingers wrap around my wrist. He places my palm on his chest, still crusted in dried blood, though most of it has washed away, tinging the water red. “You’re forgetting that we–that I–took a blood oath. I know there’s more that you’re not telling me, but I can feel your unease. I know you’re nervous. This might be new, we might be strangers, but I won’t do anything to hurt you. My body, my mind, even my soul are yours if you want them.”
He brings my knuckles to his lips, squeezing my hands for a moment before letting it go. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“Just promise not to abuse my pieces like you did that handle.”
