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Hearing the bathing chamber open, I lowered my hand to my lap. “There is water on the table,” I told him. “I poured you a glass and found you some clothing that might fit.”
“Appreciated.”
I peeked up then, my gaze traveling over the corded muscles of his back as he walked toward the cupboard. He wore nothing more than the towel wrapped around his hips, and that was, well, simply indecent in the most delicious way I certainly wasn’t acknowledging.
The Lord was silent as he drank the water, filled a third glass, and finished that off too. That was good— him drinking so much water. I watched him place the glass on the table, then turn for the clothing. He picked up the black breeches.
“These will do,” he said.
“Good.”
He undid the towel, and I quickly looked away, face warming despite all that I’d said. When I was sure he was at least partially clothed, I glanced over to find that he had donned the breeches. They were loose at his waist, hanging low on his hips.
I blinked in surprise. The wounds on his arms and in his chest appeared to be almost gone. I looked up at his face. The faint traces of bruises that had remained while he’d been in the shower were completely gone. A tingling sensation swept through me as I took in the Lord’s high, angled cheekbones and the straight, proud nose. His jaw cut a hard, carved line, and his mouth was wide and lush. There was a faint, almost feline quality to his features now visible without the bruising. It was like looking at a work of art that one feared to appreciate because the beauty was unsettling.
“Your wounds,” I managed.
“They’re healing,” he answered. His hair was slicked back from his face. “Thanks to you.”
There was an unsteady flutter in my chest. “I didn’t do much.”
He eyed me for a moment. “Do you know why Hyhborn have such a sensual effect on mortals?”
His question caught me off guard, and it took me a moment to answer. “I know some . . . things about what helps strengthen a Hyhborn.”
One side of his lips curved up. “And do these things you know involve pleasure?”
“I know that Hyhborn . . .” I struggled to find an accurate word to describe what I’d heard.
The Lord, however, did not. “Feed?”
I nodded, feeling my skin warm a bit. “I’m not sure how I’ve been of aid to you in that area.”
“Na’laa,” he murmured, chuckling. “You found great pleasure in aiding me in the shower. Not that you are unaware of that.”
Snapping my mouth shut, I looked away. I wasn’t unaware of that. I’d just forgotten in the moment that my pleasure in the simple act of touching him was something that could help him.
“We don’t just feed on the pleasure of others,” he added after a moment. “We also feed on our own pleasure. I too enjoyed the shower.”
I peeked at him, for some idiotic reason pleased that he’d enjoyed it.
“But you did even more than you realize,” he continued. “You saved lives tonight.”
Lives? Namely his. Uncomfortable with that idea and even more that I was disquieted by that fact, I squirmed. “You don’t know. You could’ve escaped.”
“Oh, I would’ve definitely escaped once I came to,” he said. “My purpose for being here wouldn’t matter. I would’ve leveled half this town. I would’ve left nothing but ash and ruin behind.”
My chest clenched. “You . . . you would’ve done that?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t have been pleased with what I’d done. I take no joy in the killing of innocents, but my guilt wouldn’t have undone my actions or made up for them, now would it have?”
“No,” I whispered, unsettled by what he was sharing— by how close Archwood had come to destruction.
“Interesting.”
“What?” I tensed as he started toward the bed.
“This whole time, you haven’t been afraid of me. You’re still not.” His head inclined to the constant movement of my fingers, opening and closing in my lap. “But you’re nervous. Unless you’re normally this fidgety?”
