Chapter 9 #2
Her protest dissolved into a shriek as he strode toward the edge and plunged them both into the cool water.
They surfaced in a rush. She sputtered, shoving her wet hair from her face and blinking away droplets.
“Khaeric!” Laughter betrayed her indignation. “That was unnecessary!”
His arms circled her waist beneath the surface, drawing her against his chest. “Ye looked too dry.”
“I think you’ve remedied that,” she said with a giggle. The water swirled cool around them, where it wasn’t pressed to the heat of him.
One broad hand slid up her back, fingers threading into her wet hair. Aeryn closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. His mouth met hers, the gentle press of his tusks against her cheeks no longer strange but thrilling.
When they parted, she found Khaeric watching her, desire darkening his eyes. “I think I may need more practice after all,” Aeryn murmured.
“Happy to oblige.” Khaeric claimed her mouth once more, the kiss deeper this time, hungrier. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and Aeryn yielded without hesitation.
His mouth drifted to the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and she tilted her head to give him better access. A soft moan escaped her as his teeth grazed her skin.
“Still think this isnae proper?” he murmured against her throat.
“Not proper at all,” Aeryn said, and a soft, surprised laugh escaped her. Her fingers traced the curve of his jaw, stubble rough beneath her fingertips.
“No. No’ proper at all.” Khaeric kissed her again.
Beneath her palms, the hard ridges of muscle shifted as her hands explored his chest, tracing the contours she’d admired from afar in the training yard.
A splash from somewhere across the pool made her freeze. Aeryn pulled back, her gaze darting across the water. Two orcs had entered from a side passage.
“There are others here,” she whispered, heat flooding her face.
Khaeric followed her gaze, his arms still firm around her waist. “Aye. The pools are open to all.” His voice held no concern, no hint of embarrassment.
Mortified, Aeryn tucked her forehead against his chest. The newcomers had spotted them, lifting hands in greeting before resuming their conversation.
“They dinnae care.” Khaeric reminded her. “This is natural to them,” he said against her temple.
Natural. The word sat strangely in her mind, bumping against all the careful rules she’d memorized as a girl. Ladies don’t embrace in public. Ladies guard their affections. Ladies—
“I know,” Aeryn said quietly. “I know they don’t care. It’s just...”
“Hard,” Khaeric finished for her.
She nodded against his chest, breathing in the clean scent of mountain water and his skin.
The leather of her top clung to her now, molded to every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination.
And yet the two orcs across the pool continued their conversation without so much as a lingering glance in her direction.
“We can leave,” Khaeric offered quietly. “If this is too much.”
“No.” Aeryn lifted her head from his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Ye’re certain?”
Something sparked to life in the bathing chamber with Essa and Odelina and ignited through her last night when Khaeric’s mouth had moved between her thighs.
That spark now burned brighter in Khaeric’s arms. She wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to stop apologizing for the heat that coiled low in her belly whenever he touched her. “I’m certain.”
A slow smile curved Khaeric’s lips. “Then let me kiss ye properly.”
His mouth claimed hers with a hunger that made her forget the orcs across the pool, forget the openness of the space, forget everything except the taste of him and the way his tongue moved against hers. Her fingers tangled in his wet hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
When he finally pulled back, his breathing roughened. “We should swim,” he said.
“Yes.” She pushed away from him. “Swimming would be good.”
Khaeric released her, and she pushed away from him. She began to swim, cutting through the water with smooth strokes. He surfaced beside her, his hand shot out, catching her ankle beneath the water. Before she could react, he tugged her under.
Cool water enveloped her, rushing past her ears and muffling all sound. She kicked instinctively, her eyes snapping open to find Khaeric’s face inches from hers, his expression full of mischief. His hair floated around his head like dark seaweed, bubbles escaping his nose as he grinned at her.
She shoved his chest in mock indignation. They surfaced moments later.
Aeryn laughed. “You’re terrible.”
“Aye, but ye like it.” He swam closer.
She did. Gods help her, she did. Aeryn treaded water, her arms moving in lazy circles. The water here was cooler than the bathing pools she’d grown accustomed to. “Why is the water cooler here?” She glanced around the vast chamber. “The bathing pools are warmer.”
“These are the Upper Waters,” Khaeric explained. “Fed by mountain runoff and the aquifers. The heated water from bathin’ chambers, healing chambers, and the like is fed by the Deep Waters, the hot springs from deep below.”
She turned her head to find him watching her. “What?”
“Nothin’.” He swam closer. “Just thinkin’ how well ye fit here.”
“I’m beginning to feel that way too,” she said.
Khaeric’s expression softened, and he swam to her, his arms encircling her waist. The kiss he gave her was gentler this time, almost tender.
When he pulled back, his thumb traced her jawline.
“We should head back. I’ve got work waitin’ for me—reports from the southern border patrols, and I need to review the grain stores before the council meetin’ tomorrow. ”
They swam toward the pool’s edge. Khaeric climbed out first, then turned and offered his hand, pulling her from the water.
“Thank you.” Uncertain what to do with her hands, Aeryn wrung water from her hair.
The leather garments clung to every curve. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest.
A few more orcs had entered from various passages. No one stared at her wet, clinging garments or her proximity to Khaeric.
When they reached their chambers, Khaeric pushed open the heavy door, stepping aside to let her enter first.
Aeryn walked toward the wooden chest where her few belongings were stored. The wet leather chafed against her skin. She selected a simple, strapless linen wrap dress Malkor had crafted for her.
She slipped the linen dress over her head. The wrap style left one shoulder bare, the hem falling to mid-thigh. Still shorter and more revealing than anything she would have worn in her father’s court, but compared to the clinging leather, it felt almost modest.
When she turned, Khaeric stood near their bed, stripped to the waist with a fresh pair of leather trousers slung low on his hips. His long black hair hung in wet ropes down his back.
“Your hair is a mess,” Aeryn said. “Would you like me to braid it?”
His brows rose. “Ye want to plait my hair?”
“Unless that’s… not done here? I just thought it might be easier to manage when it’s wet.” Uncertainty crept into her tone.
“It’s done.” Khaeric’s smile deepened. “Among my kin, tendin’ another’s hair is… intimate.”
A flutter stirred in her stomach. “If you’d rather I didn’t—”
“No.” He crossed to the bed and sat on its edge, his back to her. “I’d like that.”
Aeryn retrieved the bone comb from the small table near the bed and returned to him. “Tell me if I pull too hard.” Gathering his damp strands, she began at the ends, easing the tangles free before working higher. “Your hair is beautiful.”
Khaeric’s shoulders eased beneath her touch. “Show me what those fine court hands can do, princess.”
A soft laugh escaped her as she parted his hair into three sections. “I intend to.” Her fingers worked steadily through the dark strands, dividing and weaving them together with practiced ease. The rhythm was soothing, almost meditative.
A low rumble rose from Khaeric’s chest. His shoulders tensed beneath her hands.
Aeryn paused mid-braid. “Did I pull too hard?”
“No.” The word came out rougher than before, strained.
His breathing had changed. Deeper. Slower.
She resumed the braid, her fingers occasionally brushing the nape of his neck. Another sound escaped him—a barely audible groan that made heat pool low in her belly.
Her fingers faltered before she steadied them. “Almost done,” she murmured.
Khaeric said nothing, but his hands had curled into fists against his thighs.
Aeryn tied off the braid with a leather cord from the table, her fingers lingering perhaps longer than necessary at the base of his neck. “There. Finished.”
Khaeric turned to face her, eyes darkened to molten gold. “Thank ye,” his voice low.
The space between them seemed impossibly small and yet too vast at once. “You’re welcome,” she managed, her voice breathless.