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Mat shot me a knowing smile. “Were youlonely, darling?”
Fearing a trap if I answered honestly, I shared another truth instead. “I was worried about you.”
“I was fine. Astrid’s a sweetheart.”
“She’s terrifying,” I said flatly.
“Val said that too,” he told me, and my boy frowned as if he couldn’t possibly imagine why we might both think that. “But she’s just...she’s nice.”
Not the word I’d choose to describe a woman I’d be afraid of cutting myself on in the unlikely event she deigned to touch me, but one he’d frequently used in the past.
“She also needed to grieve Kolya,” Mat added quietly. “I couldn’t just leave her alone.”
My heart lurched at his words. Because fuck,of coursethe self-sacrificingidiotawouldn’t think twice about offering his friend comfort in the wake of her brother’s death, despite the cost on his own soul of doing so. I couldn’t even begin to imagine listening to someone reminisce fondly about your fuckingrapist.
I didn’t care that Astrid wasn’t aware of the full extent of what Kolya had done to Mat. She knew enough of it, of his actions at the tournament if nothing else, and yet had still sent me away. He’d had to endure hours alone with his secret, his sweet nature compelling him to help her even as it forced him to relive his own trauma.
I gripped him tighter, burying my face in his hair until I could compose myself. I couldn’t afford to fall apart in front of him, as he’d take the responsibility for fixing that, too.
Mathias settled in, seeming content to be snuggled without needing to speak.
“You should bathe while the water’s still hot. Where’s your servant?” I asked when I could be sure my voice wouldn’t crack.
My lover made a noise that was mostly a grunt of complaint. “Gone to bed, I imagine. I told them I didn’t need anyone waiting on me.”
“Nathanael,” I said disapprovingly, although I couldn’t be mad. Not with him, and especially not with that endearing quality of his that made him awkwardly embarrassed to be served, as if that wasn’t at least half the fun of being royalty.
“I don’t need a servant to attend me,” Mathias said slowly, deliberately pausing to draw the rest of the sentence out, “...when I have a prince to do it?”
He cracked an eye, peering up hopefully from where he was cradled against my chest to check my reaction to that statement, and it meant I couldn’t even attempt to hide the surprised, delighted laugh that bubbled up my throat.
“Oh,mi corazón. It would be my absolute pleasure to take care of you.”
I extracted us from the armchair – with difficulty, as his limbs had spilled into each crevasse and angle like wine poured into a goblet – and directed him into the adjoining bedchamber. It was decorated identically to mine but in a reverse layout, and a tin bath full of water waited on the rug in front of the flickering fire. Filled by hand, the poor fools.
Mathias began to shrug off his coat, but I steered his hands away and guided it from his shoulders myself. Untucking his shirt from his trousers, I slid my hand up his chest, slowly undoing it as I went and relishing the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers.
I moved without urgency, savouring each inch of skin I exposed as I continued to remove his clothes as carefully and languidly as unwrapping a gift. Not that I’deverunwrapped gifts slowly, being an impatient bastard at heart, but perhaps I should do it more often, because this was a treat all in itself. It didn’t matter how many times I’d seen him naked before: each brush of my fingertips or knuckles against his skin felt like something new and precious, and as I leisurely stripped Mat bare, I realised we were both trembling.
When I led him to the bath he sank down into it pliantly, letting out a soft sigh as the heat enveloped his legs and chest. The water sloshed gently against the edges of the tub. I lifted his chin so I could apply the thick lathering soap around his jaw, enjoying running my fingers through his beard in its final moments before I began to scrape it off.
The blade flashed, sharp and deadly as it carved across his throat again and again, yet Mathias never once flinched. To be utterly trusted like this; to hold his life in my hands and not glimpse even a fraction of doubt or fear on his face?
Mathias’ eyes had fluttered closed amidst all the sensation, and I paused for a moment to watch him without being observed in turn. His expression was serene, his shoulders heaved with each of his deepening breaths, and his arms rested loosely at his sides.
There were times, like now, that I still couldn’t believe that he was mine.
Mine to protect. Mine to care for.
And I was his.
Carefully setting aside the straight razor, I wrapped a hand around the clean, slightly irritated skin of his neck – not tightly, as I knew he panicked when he lost his air – but possessively. Keeping him where I wanted him, and I felt his body surrender to that control, his throat bobbing against my palm as he swallowed.
When I dragged my gaze to his face, I found Mat watching me. Quietly, patiently, his storm-coloured eyes full of keen acceptance.
I dropped my head and ghosted my lips along the dip of his collarbone in silent reply, fingers dropping down beneath the water to trace his spine and those dimples in his back I loved so much.
Wet skin shimmered in the firelight, his and mine.
