Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
LILY
Goosebumps raise the hair all over my body, and I’m completely annoyed at the fact that it feels incredible.
I haven’t always liked having my hair played with.
In fact, I thought most people who said that they did were lying, because it’s really only ever been painful to have someone else brush my hair.
And I hate doing it myself because I don’t have the patience to be gentle enough, which is why I keep it short and comb it instead of running anything with bristles through it.
It shouldn’t be hard to take care of, I don’t have the curls some of my friends have, but it always hurts.
For some reason, though, with whatever shampoo is in the water combined with the extremely delicate way Zan’s working his fingers through it and the lightest scraping of his talons across my scalp… well, it’s heaven.
I think I now have some idea of what everybody who said they wanted their hair played with were talking about. I don’t tell him that, though, because he’s already so completely full of himself that the thought of giving him any more ammunition for his ego is frankly terrifying.
He holds my head in place with one hand while he works the water and suds through with the other, and as he starts singing in a low, quiet voice, I practically melt into the chair and into his hands.
The heat is bothering me, it’s always bothering me, but with him touching me, it’s not as bad.
Either that or the sheer exhaustion of the last days in this hell have completely dulled my body’s physical need for sex—or maybe, better put, the ability to enjoy it at all.
“Do you want to clean the rest of your body before I put you in bed?” Zan finally asks after his song ends on a mournful note.
“What were you singing? I’ve never heard anything like that before.”
Once again, the words are rushing out of me before I have time to reel them back in, and I’m not so sure it’s the truth serum now or if it’s genuine interest and exhaustion powering my curiosity.
“It’s an old lullaby. All babes are sung it where I’m from,” he says quietly.
“It was beautiful.” I keep my eyes shut, afraid if I look up and see him smiling with his hands still gently massaging my scalp, I might say something I’ll regret.
Instead, I keep them tightly closed, doing my best to ignore the way the heat is making me feel feverish all over again now that I’m relaxed. Now that I’m safe and fed.
“I am glad you enjoyed it,” he says.
“What’s it about?” I ask, and then mentally slap myself for continuing to get to know him better. My translator didn’t seem to be able to catch it all. It must not be as good with song words as it is with spoken.
“It’s an old dialect,” he says slowly. “It may just be that the translator didn’t understand it.”
He continues to run his fingertips through my hair, and I shiver with pure enjoyment of the easy touch.
“It’s a song about a soldier going off to war to fight for a crown and a cause he doesn’t believe in because it is his duty. He’s leaving his beloved and knows that he will likely not return.”
“Oh… That’s so sad.” That’s a lullaby for his species? Seems like an odd choice, but I manage not to say it out loud, because that would be rude. And now I care about his feelings, which is exactly what I didn’t want.
I let out an irritated huff and cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the fact that my body is reacting again.
“Being made to fight in a war that you don’t believe in and don’t want to fight in is part of our Draegon culture,” he says slowly. “I never really considered it being inappropriate for a lullaby for a youngling. But now I wonder if it wasn’t just to make us more likely to be compliant.”
His hands have stopped on my scalp, and guilt floods through me.
“You didn’t have to—I don’t wanna—”
I’m unable to complete whatever it is I’m trying to say.
I’m not even sure what it is that I’m trying to say other than I feel guilty and worried about the odd tone in his voice.
It’s not one I’ve heard from him before.
He’s usually brash and annoying and slightly psychotic, but right now he’s thoughtful, his touch tender, and I’m wondering if I’ve ruined the chance to get to know him at all.
“Did you want me to help you clean the rest?” he asks, tapping my shoulder.
That forces me to open my eyes and look up at him.
“I can do it myself,” I say quietly.
“You’re tired,” he says, and there’s no judgment and no ulterior motive—not in his expression, his eyes, his voice.
“I can take care of you if you let me, just this once. It doesn’t have to be about anything else.
I noticed that you were more relaxed with my hands on you than you have been. Does it help the heat?”
He cocks his head just slightly, a piece of silver-white hair falling over his face before he tucks it back behind an ear.
“That would be nice,” I say grudgingly, and he gives me the smallest of smiles before some of that twinkling mischief is in his eyes again.
“It is so hard for you to admit that you might enjoy my touch, is it not, my Lily?”
I glare at him. “Did you want to do it or not?” I ask. “You don’t have to be sassy about it.”
“Ah, but I think that you secretly like when I am sassy, because it lets you hide inside of your shell more,” he says knowingly.
Annoyed, I take the shower head from his hand, and it immediately turns off.
“Are you going to make it where I can’t know how to work this thing so you can touch me all over and clean me?”
I shouldn’t have said that out loud, because the minute I do, his eyes heat, and so does my skin.
“Suit yourself,” he says. “All you have to do is squeeze it lightly, and you will find that things come out of it. Perhaps you are familiar with this process?”
My mouth drops open. I should have suspected that he would make this suggestive, and yet I didn’t. So here we are—me, shocked, turned on, filthy, and denying being touched by the one person that can make me feel better.
Great.
“On Earth, it takes a lot more for men than one light squeeze to finish,” I tell him icily.
Both eyebrows lift up, his lips parting, showing off just the barest touch of pointed fang.
“Truly, your fascination with all things alien cock should be studied,” he finally manages dryly. “Weren’t you talking about the—” he gestures to the strange wand of a shower head and then to himself.
He gives me an amused look, a small puff of air coming out like a laugh. “I was simply talking about the equipment to help you clean yourself.”
A wicked light gleams in his eyes as his gaze rakes across my body, slowly, leaving fire in its wake as he drags it back up again.
He licks his lips, the tip of his tongue lingering on his fang.
“But I’m happy to test out just what your soft little hands can do to me, if that’s what you’re offering. ”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I say, annoyed at getting myself into this situation again. Did I really have to make an innuendo when he was sincerely trying to help me clean?
“I’m not going to make you do anything, Lily, but if you want to satisfy your own curiosity…” He gestures to the hard protrusion between his legs, covered up by pants.
My mouth grows dry, and I swallow, then cough, realizing I’m staring at it. It’s hard not to, because it’s—
“It’s moving?”
“It skithes for you,” he says, satisfied with my curiosity and attention.
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“From the way that you’re still staring at it, I assume that you do.”
His hands move to his waistband, and he starts to lower them, revealing hard-cut abs. Wetness blooms between my thighs because, my gosh, I do want to see that. I want to see it so badly. To satisfy my curiosity. That’s all it is. Just curiosity. That’s all this is.
I’ve never seen that before. Well, I’ve seen plenty of that, but not a purple one. I tilt my head, fascinated in spite of myself.
“I’m not going to show you unless you ask,” he says, his gaze hungry but his tone light.
“Fine, show me,” I say, waving a hand dismissively.
“Ah,” he tuts. “You have to ask nicely.”
“Fine.”
I make the most suggestive eye contact I possibly can. Because if he is going to tease me, then I’m going to tease him right back, and that’s just how this is going to work.
“I’d like to see your alien cock please,” I tell him as sweetly as I can. Slightly sarcastically, but sweet enough… for me.
There’s no denying the sheer lust in his face now, and I realize that maybe I’ve overplayed my hand because I’m feeling it too.
He reaches out a finger tipped in one of those sharp lavender talons. And just barely strokes the lethal tip of it across my jawline.
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough, my sweet Lily. If you want to see my cock, you’re going to have to let me bathe you.”
He reaches up, tapping my nose once. “You.” Another tap. “Are.” Another tap. “Filthy.” Two taps.
I jerk my face away, annoyed as hell, but also slightly amused, in spite of myself.
“Fine, you can bathe me,” I say with as much of an air of casualness as I can muster. Which is a whole heck of a lot, considering the fact that my entire body feels like it’s on fire from this goddamn Draegon heat.
“But first,” I hold up my own finger and tap his nose. Well, it’s more like a flick because I do it pretty hard, but you know, whatever. “You have to tell me what sky-thing means.”
I glance down at his cock, which is now truly doing something incredibly distracting in his pants.
“Ah.” He wiggles his own finger at me, then wraps his hand around my wrist, placing it over his cock. “Skithing is not something I can tell you about. It’s something you have to feel for yourself, little human.”
I suck in a breath, fascinated. Because the thing in his pants is humongous, for one, and for two, it’s moving faster. Not like one of those frat boy pull your pants down, do a helicopter dance when you’re drunk at a keg party.