Chapter 31 #2
“Descendants of Zoros make up our winged ranks.”
Zoros, the God of Wind.
Theodon pointed to the sconces. “The fire bringers from Ignos’s bloodline keep the sconces burning underground, and those who possess their power from Thentos shield the fortress. We all contribute something up here.”
It was extraordinary, hearing how they worked together.
“And your lieutenants? Which bloodline do they descend from?”
“Manos possesses gifts from Sara, our Goddess of Wisdom, and Callum, he came from Olimir.”
Olimir, God of Protection.
She wanted to ask about every single demigod here, inquire about their bloodline, their powers.
But the bath was more tempting. She could soak in this warm water for an eternity, douse those colorful bottles all over her body.
She pulled her pants down past her knees, and unfurled the well-knotted bandages.
She assessed her leg, confirming the wounds had fully closed and only a couple of scabs remained.
Fully submerging with an open wound would surely lead to an infection, and that’s the last thing she needed up here.
She was so excited at the prospect of getting clean, she almost forgot Theodon was there. She sat down on the cool ground, trying to shield her body as best she could while she completely removed her pants.
But he wasn’t looking at her. In fact he was making a painful effort to not look, that scowling face deep in thought.
“Is something wrong?”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes to the stone. “No, I just feel . . . foolish. I have lived here a very long time. It’s easy to forget not everyone does things as we do. We are not a place of modesty or shame for our bodies—”
“I am not ashamed of my body!” she fired back, although a little uncertain.
He scrunched his eyes, pinching the skin between them.
“I didn’t say you were . . . I just should have realized you would want more privacy.
No one here is royal. Everyone under this mountain was pulled from the slums or cities where public bathhouses are common.
Not everything I say is an attack, Highness. ”
She scoffed. “No, just most of the things you say.” Olive branch or not, conversations with this male always left her defensive and angry.
His jaw clenched tight before he turned around to face the opposite wall.
“I doubt I have anything they would want to see anyway,” she whispered to herself.
She reached for the brass on the leather top and realized she hadn’t the slightest clue how to take it off. The pants rolled down easy enough, but there were clasps on this skintight shirt that made no sense. Even her most complex corsets didn’t have pieces like this.
Come on. Come on.
She made one more hopeless attempt, then conceded her defeat.
“Theodon . . .” This was going to be humiliating.
He turned. She watched his eyes roam toward her exposed legs.
“I can’t get it off.” She tried one last time to fumble with the contraption of an outfit, pleading for it to come undone.
He hung back, tilting his head as if he wasn’t sure what she was asking of him.
“I—I need help.”
He walked to her, placed his hands at the base of her neck.
Click. One snap undone.
Her throat bobbed at the sound. She kept her hands nervously fisted at her sides as his fingers wandered lower, over the clasp near her breast.
Click.
She wouldn’t dare look up. She got lost examining the small outlines of faint pale scars marring his tan skin. All the various shapes and sizes cutting through his arms and abdomen.
His hands took on a lazy pace as they glided down her stomach. The lower his touch traveled, the hotter she felt. Like a raging inferno was blazing under the fabric and she might burn alive.
His fingers paused on the last clasp at her navel.
She willed her eyes to look up.
Theodon’s gaze penetrated her with eager intensity. For this encounter to be over . . . or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure. He didn’t blink—he didn’t break eye contact.
Click.
The leather fell to her sides, leaving just a thin cotton wrap over her breasts.
Her chest heaved as he kept those calloused fingers right at the hemline of her undergarments.
She felt one of his knuckles languidly smooth the skin of her lower abdomen back and forth.
Gooseflesh rose over every inch of her body.
Why was she allowing this? Was she that mentally worn down? Or was it that his eyes and his touch made her actually feel? She had begged the gods to let her feel something, anything other than this hollow ache that had built a home inside her.
Was this their answer?
Then the moment ended. He cleared his throat, lifting his hands away from her.
He didn’t say anything, so she whipped her body back around to face the pool.
She heard his footsteps retreat.
What just happened?
She tried to gather herself—tried to erase the image of those sunset and hailstone eyes out of her head.
She removed the rest of her layers and folded her arms across her breasts, attempting to achieve some semblance of modesty. She looked down, appraising her naked body in full for the first time since she was healed.
She was healthy. Scarred and badly bruised, but she was healthy.
She braved a glance over her shoulder.
Theodon hadn’t left. To her disappointment, she saw his eyes begin to dart to either wall. Why wasn’t he trying to sneak a glance? Wouldn’t most men do so? Had her bare body been that hideous? And further, why did she care?
With newfound embarrassment, she plunged into the inviting spring.
“Mmm,” she hummed with delight. Her aching muscles were instantly soothed as the musical sound of falling water filled her ears.
The elation was short-lived as she heard the thumping of boots hitting the ground.
Theodon had kicked his off, and was dropping his pants to his ankles.
His firm ass was on full display as he tossed the pants and undershorts aside.
“Wha-what are you doing?” she stuttered.
“Bathing, what does it look like I’m doing?”
“here?” she shrieked.
“Yes, Highness. Right here,” he replied curtly.
“Why can’t you go somewhere else?”
“If it’s privacy you seek, someone should keep a lookout.”
She rapidly scolded her features into aloofness, trying to match his composure.
This was their normal here, bathing in the open. She had to accommodate. He was moving to the falling water at the other side of the cavern.
Good. He was keeping a distance.
Besides, the thought of Orm sneaking in here while she was alone made her stomach sour, and she was suddenly grateful.
She sank her hair into the welcoming warmth, trying to distract herself. She kept her hands busy lathering suds in her hair. Anything to take attention away from the first fully nude body she had ever seen besides her own.
And what an impressive body it was.
Intrusive thoughts kept manifesting. Thoughts of lowering her hands below the pool, perhaps between her thighs.
Helaina was beyond inexperienced. She had used books to fill in the gaps of her sexual knowledge. She had even experimented with her own touch a time or two, although she wasn’t certain she was doing it correctly.
His muscular body made her feel desperate, feverish even. She needed a distraction. Conversation could help.
“You said you were here in the beginning . . . Did the gods build this place?”
Theodon didn’t look back. He kept one arm braced on the wall as the other smoothed water from the overhead falls all over his chest.
“No, I built Elkron.”
Her eyes widened. “You built all of this?”
“Every single catacomb, every staircase.” The falling icy water was steaming off his shoulders.
“You and who else?”
“There was no one else in the beginning, just me.”
“It must have taken decades.”
“Eighty-five years and fifty-six days.” He rattled off the numbers like they were ingrained in his memory. Like that amount of time alone had burned into him so ferociously that he couldn’t possibly forget it.
“You were alone all that time?”
He gave a slight nod. “For those years, yes. The bone dagger had already been gifted to me. I knew eventually I would need to find others. I just needed some time.”
Her heart sank to her gut. She had whined about the solitude and seclusion she had endured in the castle, but she had family. She had . . . others. She would go mad being in a space like this without a single soul.
“Time for what?”
He inhaled deeply, expanding the broadness in his back.
His crimson tattoo lining the grooves of his sculpted muscles was more vibrant now that his skin was damp.
She let her eyes drift downward . . . and down some more.
His backside was so pleasant to look at.
She wondered what his bare front looked like.
Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m sorry?” She wasn’t apologizing, she was so damned distracted she had genuinely forgotten what she had asked in the first place.
He turned around, revealing his front. It did not disappoint.
He leaned his head back, dousing his long hair in the falls, his abdomen flexing as he stretched. She had to fight her curiosity to keep her gaze above his hips.
“At least you know how to apologize. You clearly don’t know how to say thank you when someone does you a kindness. For growing up in a castle, your manners are questionable.”
She narrowed her eyes, pocketing any attraction she had felt in the last few minutes.
“Ah, yes. Thank you, Captain Theodon Wrenn, for allowing me the comforts of a somewhat private bath after you kidnapped me. Your chivalry is beyond measure.” She made herself busy lathering her skin in the aromatic perfumes.
“Careful, with that tone, I might think you miss your old life and put you right back where I found you.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”
Before she could blink, he was approaching her—fast. She was able to see every inch of that dripping wet body.
Every. Single. Inch.
Was he . . . Yes, he was. His arousal was clearly displayed as he neared the spring.