34
Assassin.
I couldn’t stop telling that to myself as Roxior guided us to the thermal baths in his private wing of the house as a reward for our victory.
Behind us, Lotte and another middle-aged slave were making faint sounds of disappointment in response to their Master’s exclamations as he relived each moment of the fight in the arena aloud with a child’s enthusiasm.
Or perhaps it was due to the trail of sand and the smell of blood and sweat that Amlach and I were leaving behind.
When we arrived, Roxior opened the double doors and stepped inside, proudly spreading his arms as he turned to show us the room.
The floor was adorned with an intricate sea-toned mosaic depicting a majestic whale, while the walls displayed paintings of underwater life.
Two showers, featuring stone benches, were framed by columns with carved fish and dolphins on their capitals.
A pair of statues of women, leaning against the wall, supported amphoras above their heads, which poured flowing water into the tall marble bathtub.
A small wood-burning oven nestled in a corner warmed the water and the room, already enveloped in a cloud of steam.
Roxior snapped his ringed fingers toward the closet on the right side of the door; the servants threw out several large and small towels and laid them on the wide marble bench to the left of the threshold.
The Master gave Amlach and me an intense look. “My second gift to you,” he announced, then nodded to Lotte.
The old woman fished a small key out of the pocket of her tunic and freed us from our collars and cuffs, passing them to her companion.
It was the first time we were unchained without the intimidating presence of the guards keeping us under fire at close range.
“You’ve been amazing today, my gladiators,” Roxior said. “Relax for as long as you like. A night of celebration awaits us.”
He took leave with a modest bow, and the housekeeper shut the door, leaving Amlach and me alone. And not tied to each other.
He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and exhaled forcefully through his nose. “Come here,” he said.
He turned me around and began to untie my armor with movements so furious that I had to ask my aching legs for extra effort to stay still. I let my armor fall to the ground and turned back to start untying his with much more calmness.
That’s when I noticed the nasty cut between his shoulder and neck. Covered in the blood of the men he had killed, I didn’t realize that he was wounded too, neither while we were still on the field nor while returning to the house.
Once we were back in our room, a healer should come to stitch us up.
“You go first.” Amlach cut me a naughty glance as we removed our armguards and greaves. “I won’t look,” he promised, turning toward the wall opposite the showers.
I smiled to myself as I finished undressing.
Trusting him completely, I went into the showers and turned the single knob on the left under the spout.
The cold splash of water hit my chest, stealing my breath.
I used soap to wipe away sand, dust, blood, and sweat from my skin and hair, hissing from the sting when water poured over the open wound; then, I scraped the dry paint off my face.
After cleaning, I turned off the faucet and climbed the steps to get into the tub, dipping into hot water for the first time in over a month. The tub was so deep that the glassy and slightly opaque surface, from which steam fumes rose, barely covered my breast.
I groaned in a mix of pleasure and pain, allowing the water to soothe me as I stood facing the wall while Amlach undressed and washed himself.
When he stepped into the bathtub, the water level rose by a finger, and I breathed out slowly with relief. Although I had become used to his nakedness, a part of me still felt somewhat embarrassed to present myself so exposed to his gaze.
Amlach positioned himself beneath one of the amphorae, making a sound of pure appreciation as water cascaded onto his shoulders, massaging him.
I willed myself to take my greedy eyes away from his broad chest, his strong arms, his relaxed face . . . from the rest of his body beneath the slightly cloudy surface.
I placed my forearms on the smooth edge of the tub and rested my chin on the back of my hand, savoring that moment of peace and warmth.
Recalling the image of myself driving the dagger into that innocent man’s throat. Of the blood spreading on the sand and . . .
“Stop it.”
I jolted. Amlach was behind me, his looming presence towering over me. He was so close that his knees brushed the back of my thighs.
Nevertheless, I did not flee to the other side of the tub.
“To do what?” I asked in a whisper.
Amlach ran his fingers through my hair, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Thinking about what you’ve done.”
I allowed him to move my hair aside, tremendously aware of his touch, of his closeness. “How do you know that’s what I was thinking about?”
“Because I’ve gotten to know you,” he replied in a suddenly dark tone, almost hinting at irritation.
His hands appeared at the edges of my field of vision, resting near my elbows. They gripped the tub’s edge so tightly that the veins on the backs of his hands swelled, and his knuckles turned white. By trapping me in his arms, he moved closer and pinned me against the tub wall with his body.
Although I didn’t have a mate, I knew the male anatomy. And I was frighteningly aware of the erection pressing against my lower back.
Suddenly, the water felt so hot that I was panting. “Amlach—”
“Quiet,” he growled in my ear, and the dangerous brush of his teeth against my lobe made me shiver.
Amlach slammed his forehead against my head with such force that it hurt a bit. His breath in my wet hair felt as scorching as a dragon’s and matched the quick rhythm of my own.
After what felt like an eternity, during which neither of us dared to move, Amlach lifted one hand from the edge of the tub. In the next moment, I felt his rough fingertips tracing a path around the laceration on my shoulder.
“When I saw that arrow . . .” He could not finish the sentence, and his furious breath puffed against my neck.
“I’ve never been wounded in a fight before,” I thought aloud, focused on the burning sensation that Amlach’s fingers stimulated around the fresh lesion.
“Never?” he taunted me, and the pressure of his touch increased just a little. “Are you certain of it?”
I frowned, feeling once more Mornon the Abomination’s black blade cut my thigh and my cheek. Once again, I saw my blood gush and stain the ground, scorched by his wickedness.
However, no scar remained to bear witness to my victory over the greatest enemy of the Lands of the East, erased by a special ointment that, millennia ago, our healers created from the leaves of red maple with the help of druids and the approval of the Spirits.
But now no ointment could restore my skin’s flawlessness. From this point on, I would be different from other elves.
I would be imperfect.
“I’m so weak here,” I said in a breathless rage. “So—”
“Human?” Amlach mocked me.
I half smiled, then my face darkened again. “We must leave.” Needless to add: Before one of us receives much more serious injuries.
I felt his lips against my hair. “We’ll find a way,” he replied, echoing the promise I had made when we had been captured.
I resisted the urge to lean my head back against his chest, allowing myself to relax into him, and redirected my attention to something else. “Let me take a look at that cut of yours,” I said, trying to turn around.
Suddenly, Amlach grabbed me by the hips and held me so firmly that I winced in pain.
Shocked, I did not dare fight him, scream, or say something. Anything. I could not even think.
There was only him.
His fierce breath in my ear. The heat of his solid body against mine. His fingers digging into my skin as if they wanted to pierce it and reach my luscious flesh, my bones.
My soul.
Then his fingers started to move, and my mind fell into darkness.
Amlach’s right hand rose up to my breast, tracing its shape with the space between his thumb and forefinger. My breath hiccupped. I was overwhelmed by the enveloping sensation that spread from my chest to my lower belly.
Amlach slowly moved his other hand further down, toward the inside of my leg, between my thighs. He traced his finger along my sex, and a wave of pleasure surged through me so intensely that I tilted my head back with a moan.
Amlach opened his mouth on my exposed neck, sucking the bulging tendon, kissing it, nibbling at it. Prey of the lust he was unleashing in me with such mastery, I covered the hand he was using to touch my breast with mine and lifted my other arm out of the water to run my fingers through his hair.
Amlach rocked his hips forward, and I instinctively stood up on my toes to feel his erection rub against my buttocks. The pressure of his fingers, moving up and down, grew more intense, making me moan uncontrollably. And when his finger slightly entered into me . . .
I came to my senses.