23. Kaelus
KAELUS
Kaelus carried Clair back to their suite wrapped in the soft silver cloth from the massage chamber, acutely aware of every warm, yielding inch of her nestled against him.
Her head rested on his shoulder, her curly hair tickling the side of his throat, and one small hand lay loosely against his chest as though she trusted him completely to take care of her.
The knowledge should have pleased him—instead, it made guilt twist like a blade in his gut. He could still feel the wetness of her tears beneath his fingertip, and he couldn’t stop wondering if he had caused them.
She had told him that he hadn’t hurt her—had insisted that she was only emotional because of the intensity of what they had done, but Kaelus wasn’t certain he believed her.
Clair had been happy after her climax—soft and glowing and smiling up at him—and then he had opened his foolish mouth and told her he wished she was really his. Soon after that, the tears had come.
It didn’t take a brilliant scientist to establish the cause and effect of her sorrow.
You went too far, whispered a little voice in his head.
The thought had been tormenting him from the moment he saw that tear on her cheek. He had gone far beyond what their mission required—far beyond what two coworkers ought to do with each other, no matter what absurd customs their hosts expected them to imitate.
It didn’t matter that Clair had consented to everything.
It didn’t matter that she had opened herself for him willingly or that she had clutched his hair and cried his name while he pleasured her.
It didn’t even matter that tasting her had been one of the most profoundly erotic experiences of his life.
None of that changed the simple fact that Clair had spent years with a male who had damaged her confidence and then betrayed her, and she had told Kaelus plainly that she wanted nothing more to do with males afterward.
He should have respected that declaration instead of letting his own selfish longing convince him that her desire in the moment meant she wanted something more.
And the worst part was that he did want more—gods, how he wanted it.
He wanted to carry her like this every night—not because some alien custom required it, but because she belonged in his arms. He wanted to listen to her chatter about plants while he made her coffee in the morning.
He wanted to argue with her over lab safety and move everything she needed down from the upper shelves even though she complained about him treating her like a child.
He wanted to feed her when she became so absorbed in her work that she forgot to eat. He wanted her bright dresses and her ridiculous Southern endearments and her laughter filling his quarters until his austere, orderly existence no longer resembled anything it had been before she entered it.
And yes, he wanted her soft, curvy body too—wanted it with an intensity that bordered on madness—but that was almost the smallest part of it now.
Kaelus tightened his arms around her unconsciously and Clair sighed and snuggled closer.
That simple gesture of trust made his heart fist in his chest.
Mine, whispered the primitive part of him. MINE!
But she wasn’t and she could never be.
The door to their suite opened at his approach, and Kaelus carried her inside. Clair stirred against him as the door closed behind them, lifting her head from his shoulder.
“You can put me down now,” she murmured sleepily. “I can walk.”
“I know,” Kaelus murmured. But he didn’t put her down.
Instead, he carried her straight through the sleeping chamber and into the bathing room, where the large oval bathing pool was recessed into the floor.
He remembered rushing in here that morning after hearing her cry out, terrified that she had injured herself, only to discover that the shower had startled her with a blast of cold water.
At the time, seeing her naked and covered in fragrant cleansing foam had nearly destroyed what little self-control he possessed.
Now, strangely, he felt none of the frantic sexual urgency that had possessed him then.
He was simply aware that Clair was exhausted, covered in massage oil, and needed to be cared for.
“Time for a bath,” he rumbled.
Clair gave him a faint smile.
“You’re bossy, you know that?”
Kaelus shrugged.
“Yes. So?”
She shook her head.
“You know, most people at least pretend they aren’t.”
“I see no reason to lie.”
That earned him the tiniest huff of laughter, and some of the tightness in Kaelus’s chest eased.
He set her carefully on the padded bench beside the pool and adjusted the controls until warm water began flowing from several openings around its edge.
The pool filled quickly, wisps of fragrant steam rising from the surface, and Kaelus selected a mild cleansing solution from the assortment their hosts had provided.
He tested it between his fingers first, smelling it carefully before allowing himself to use it on her. It had a light floral fragrance and no obvious medicinal or irritating compounds. He nodded to himself—that was acceptable.
Clair watched him with sleepy amusement.
“You’re analyzing the soap, aren’t you?”
Kaelus raised an eyebrow.
“Of course.”
“It’s just soap,” she said.
“It’s going on your skin,” Kaelus said, frowning. “I must be sure it won’t hurt you.”
Clair smiled.
“You’re still taking care of me, but you don’t have to. Maera and Varell aren’t here, you know.”
“I know.” Kaelus frowned. “I don’t care. You are mine to protect and care for—at least as long as we are on Titus Four.”
“Yes, as long as we’re here.” She suddenly looked sad again.
The expression cut Kaelus like a knife. He wished desperately that he could keep making her laugh. Anything was better than her tears. But he couldn’t think of anything amusing to say—he only wanted to care for her.
When the bath was ready, he turned toward her and hesitated.
The silver cloth had loosened around her shoulders, revealing the upper curves of her breasts.
Ordinarily the sight would have made his cock harden instantly.
It stirred now, of course—he was not dead—but he pushed the reaction aside.
He had already indulged himself far too much tonight.
This was not about his desire. It was about Clair.
“I can wash myself,” she said, apparently reading something in his expression.
“I know.”
“Then why do you have that look?” Clair asked.
He frowned.
“What look?”
“The Kaelus-is-about-to-take-charge-of-everything look,” she said.
“I have no such look,” Kaelus denied.
Clair smiled.
“You absolutely do.”
Well, perhaps he did. At any rate, he wasn’t going to argue about it. Instead, he crouched in front of her so that they were closer to eye level.
“Clair,” he said quietly, holding her eyes with his own. “Will you allow me to take care of you?”
Her expression softened in a way that made his chest ache and after a moment, she nodded.
“All right,” she murmured. “If you really want to.”
“I want to,” Kaelus told her. “It’s all I want right now.”
She blushed and looked down at her hands.
“Thank you.”
Kaelus helped her unwrap the silver cloth without allowing his gaze to linger. That required considerably more discipline than he would ever admit, but he managed it. Then he lifted her again and lowered her carefully into the warm water.
Clair gave a long, satisfied sigh as she sank into the pool.
“Ohhh. That feels wonderful.”
Kaelus settled on the edge beside her.
The water covered her to the tops of her breasts, obscuring most of her curves beneath a faint shimmer of steam, and he picked up a soft bathing cloth and dipped it into the warm water.
He added a small amount of cleanser, worked it into a light foam, and began washing the massage oil from her shoulders.
There was something profoundly soothing about the simple act. This was not a performance—there were no shadows on a screen and no one instructing him where to touch her or how to pleasure her.
It was just the two of them in the quiet, steamy bathing chamber and Kaelus was glad of it.
He washed her shoulders first, then her arms, taking one small hand in his and carefully cleaning the oil from each finger. Her eyes drifted closed and her head rested against the curved rim of the pool.
Kaelus watched her face as he worked.
There were faint shadows beneath her eyes.
She had worked hard all day before returning to him overflowing with excitement about her discovery, then they had spent the evening analyzing data, discussing Sendar, and finally enduring the emotionally charged spectacle their hosts called “massage night.” No wonder she was tired.
And no wonder she had cried.
Perhaps it truly had been nothing more than emotional release, but the possibility did not absolve him, Kaelus thought.
He had seen enough of Clair during their months together to know that she used humor like armor. Whenever something frightened or embarrassed her, she talked. Whenever something hurt, she joked. Whenever she felt vulnerable, she filled the silence with nonsense until she could hide behind it again.
Tonight, after he told her he wished she were his, she hadn’t joked….she had cried.
Kaelus squeezed the bathing cloth in his fist. Never again.
He didn’t feel bad about the pleasure itself—he couldn’t regret giving her pleasure, especially after learning that the fool she had married had neglected her so completely.
But he would not allow the situation between them to escalate again, Kaelus swore to himself.
No more intimate touching. No more lying beside her while they pleasured themselves.
No more kissing her until he forgot every sensible reason they should remain apart.
No more tasting her sweetness and imagining that the sounds she made meant she belonged to him.
He would play the role required by their mission—nothing more.