Bound to the Shadow Prince

Chapter 38

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

M y heart is racing as we head down to the kitchens. I don’t know if Nemeth is trying to distract me or attempting to pick up where we left off this morning, but I’ll gladly take it. I’m already wet with anticipation, my pussy slick enough that I can feel my folds brushing against each other as I move. He carries the lamp for light, sets it down on one of the tables, and pulls out the tub. “I’ll start a fire and heat the water for you.”

“It’s not necessary.” It’s a lot of work to heat the water—distracting work—and I’d rather have him focused on me. “If I get too cold, you can always warm me up.”

His reflective eyes flare with arousal. “If you like.”

Oh, I like.

I watch in silence as he fills the tub with bucket after bucket of water. When it’s hip deep, I slip off my robe and chemise and step forward, naked. My skin prickles, but it’s more from awareness of his gaze than the cold. Ever since I entered this tower, my baths have been cold, since it seems like a waste of fuel to make a fire just to heat water. I’m rather used to it.

Nemeth holds a hand out to me, and I place mine in his as I step into the tub. I can feel his gaze roaming over my pale limbs. I do wonder if he finds them unnaturally pale or unpleasant looking compared to his own, or the fact that I’m all rounded softness where he’s hard planes and angles. I haven’t seen many Fellians in my life, but the ones that I have looked like him. Is that why he wants to go slow? To “savor” things? So he can get used to my appearance?

I stand in the calf-deep water and consider him, still holding onto his hand. “Does my appearance repulse you? Be honest.”

“Repulse me?” He shakes his head. “You are built differently, but I do not find you repulsive.”

I glance down at my legs, and my knees that bend forward instead of backward. My lower half is definitely quite different than his. His kilts are short, frequently offering glimpses of the wrap that protects his cock, and his powerful hind legs flex under the skimpy shield of leather. One of his thighs is as big as my torso, and he’s made large all over—even with legs that bend backward, he’s still taller than Lionel, taller than any of the men at the Liosian court. I can only imagine how massive he’d be if he was built with the same legs as us. Tall as the tips of his wings that loft above his head, maybe?

Picturing that, I shiver with fascination.

“Cold?” His other hand slides over my shoulder, enormous and warm, and I bite my lip to smother the moan that threatens to rise. I’m so hungry for touch that I want to fling myself onto him and forget all about the bath. Savor, Candra , I remind myself. Savor!

With a little sigh, I lower myself into the water. “Not cold. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You.” I slither deeper into the water. It rises now that I’m in it, no longer calf-deep but brushing against my breasts. I lean back against the wall of the tub and rest my arms on the edges, which leaves my body free for his perusal.

Nemeth is silent. “So it was a bad shiver.”

“No such thing as a bad shiver,” I reply, my tone light. “Certainly not when it comes to you. Wash me?” And I raise one foot into the air.

Those wings of his give a telling shake and he crouches low next to the tub. He picks up the bar of soap that he’d set aside and studies it, then looks at me.

I wink at him, even as I lower my foot onto the lip of the tub, keeping it out of the water as I wait to see how he’ll react.

“Do you toy with all the males that come into contact with you, I wonder?” Nemeth muses as he dips the soap into the water. The cake looks ridiculously small in his huge hand.

“Only the ones I like,” I tease. “Are you this shy around all women?”

“Only the ones I like,” he confesses, a sly look in my direction.

That makes me smile. I wiggle my toes at him, beaming. “You can’t be shy around me. I’ve sucked your cock and rubbed your knot. That should make you more at ease in my presence.”

Nemeth groans as if pained, closing his eyes. “And when you say such things, it reminds me of those moments and makes it impossible to concentrate.”

As if that’s such a bad thing. “You were the one that offered to bathe me.”

“So I did.” He drags the cake of soap through the water again and then lifts it to my leg. Nemeth carefully runs it over my calf, and the scent of roses fills the air.

Roses. Erynne does love her roses. I sigh with contentment and close my eyes. It doesn’t even matter that the water is cold. I love that someone’s taking care of me. I love that it’s Nemeth.

He grunts to himself as the soap moves over my foot. “You have such small toes. No claws, either. Humans really are a helpless race. I have no idea why you wish to war with mine.”

“I don’t want to war with anyone,” I deflect as he lifts my leg by the ankle and continues to wash me.

“No,” he muses. “You wouldn’t. You’d kiss everyone until they got along.”

“Not everyone. Only the handsome ones.”

“Then it’s a pity you’re stuck with me.” His big, wet hand trails up to my knee and rests there, going no higher.

I open one eye and scrutinize him. Why is he speaking so negatively of himself? Because I’m flirting? I thought he liked my blatant attempts at seduction. “Is something bothering you, Nemeth?”

“Aye,” he says, and moves to my other calf, washing it. He doesn’t look me in the eye. “I am reminded how very different we are. How you must have had a lively life back at court, full of suitors who were hungry for your attention. And then I think of myself, and how you must be with one such as me simply out of…boredom.”

Boredom? Frowning, I lift my clean foot and shove it against him, catching him in the arm. “Don’t be an arse.”

Nemeth blinks those soulful, glowing eyes at me. “I’m not. I am a scholar. A Fellian. I am acutely aware of what I am.” He holds up one hand. “I have claws. Fangs. Wings.”

“A knot,” I agree. “And a cute little tail.”

He shoots me a quelling look. “Tails are private. Do not call mine ‘cute’ or ‘little.’”

Oops. “If it helps, your knot is enormous.”

Nemeth’s wings twitch. After a moment, he admits, “That…does help, yes.” He starts to wash my leg again. “My point is that I know you are not truly interested in me. I am no court swain. I am not Liosian. I do not know how to properly court a human female.”

Court me? I blink in surprise at that. “You want to court me?”

“Is that so strange?” He gestures at my legs. “I am touching you. I share a bed with you. When my people mate, they mate for life.” He pauses. “I am asking if you truly wish to be mated to a Fellian. If you have thought this through.”

I’m without words. “We can’t just flirt and enjoy one another?”

“Is that all this is to you? A diversion?” He gives me a soulful look.

I swallow hard. I truly have no idea how to answer that. I adore flirting with him. I adore him . At the same time, I’m greatly aware that this flirting between us isn’t allowed. If my people were to find out that I’d kissed him? That I’d sucked his cock? I’d be treated like some sort of aberrant. I’d be a filthy whore in their eyes, Vestalin princess or not. I’d be giving up everything once I got out of here. My home would no longer welcome me.

I wouldn’t be a martyr and a heroine. I’d be a freak.

And yet the thought of turning Nemeth down makes me hurt, deep inside. I want to kiss him more. I want to touch him more. Six more years of being with him and not being with him might be more painful than being locked in this tower.

“You’re not a diversion,” I say softly. “You’re my friend. I care for you.”

“But you wouldn’t give up your people for me?”

How did we go from a lighthearted, flirty bath to defecting to the enemy? “Must it be decided today? This feels a bit like manipulation.”

He gives me a stricken look, his hand hesitating on my leg. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that, Candra. I just…I am Fellian, I suppose. My mindset is that of my people. And I cannot think of devoting myself without asking for you to be my mate and all that entails.” His claws trail up my leg in a teasing gesture. “It’s difficult for me to try to think of it in human terms.”

Mmm. “Humans don’t exactly think differently, either. At least, not the wealthy ones. All of those marriages are for wealth, land, or name. If you’re a noble and you have a daughter, she’s little more than a cow for you to sell off to the highest bidder.” I make a face at the idea. “It’s only because of my name that I have the slightest bit of freedom, but perhaps that’s why I struggle. I have had marriage proposed to me seventeen times, despite the fact that I bear cursed blood. Seventeen different people all wanted to marry me, all because they want to be tied to the Vestalin name. Because they think their magic cocks can somehow ‘cure’ my infertility.” I snort. “And that’s the problem. No one wants me. Candra. So when I hear a marriage proposal, I know it’s shite, and I automatically wish to run straight for the hills.”

“Even a proposal from a Fellian,” Nemeth muses. “I understand.”

“Do you?” I study him. “I’ve never been in control of my fate. Not as a woman, not as a Vestalin. The only reason I didn’t have to marry those seventeen men that proposed was because the court astrologer said they would have no children if they married me. It was never my choice, understand? Even as the cursed Vestalin, I still would have been made to marry. The only thing I have ever had control over is my body, and who I share it with. Must I give that up so easily, simply because I am fond of you and want to touch you?”

“I understand,” he says again, his expression somber. “You might think I do not, but I do understand what it is like for your life not to be your own.”

I realize what he means—that he is of the First House of Darkfell, and thus a Royal Offering. He is a prince of his people. Perhaps he does understand. I reach for his hand and grip it in mine. “Then you know in a world without freedoms, those that we have are more precious than ever.”

Nemeth smiles at me, his expression slightly sad. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, then hands me the soap. “I do. And I must think on it. Can you finish your bath without me?”

And then he disappears into the shadows, melting away and leaving me alone in the room with my tepid bath, which is far less exciting now that I’m alone.

Hmph. “You could have at least stayed to watch me soap my breasts,” I call out. “Being horny is not a crime.”

There is no answer.