24. Loathing
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Loathing
Cassiel frowned, scanning my face. The feline thrashed under his hold.
“Do not kill it,” I blurted.
Cassiel looked down at the mountain lion still in his grip, the whites of the eyes showing.
“I will not kill it,” he said slowly, still eyeing me. “May I finish feeding?” His eyebrow raised, and he watched me with his head tilted.
“Ah.” I cleared my throat and turned my back to him. “I will be inside.” Scrunching the bottom of my dress, I retreated the way I came. It didn’t take me long to return to the bedchamber. I practically bolted as soon as I was far enough away from him.
Well, that explained his absence; he had been hunting. It seemed he had done so before. I shut the door to the chamber. A small, very tiny piece of me felt offended that he had not fed on me. It was a fact that sank heavily in my stomach.
I could not fathom why. The bed creaked as I slumped atop it again, curling onto my side.
My pulse calmed in increments. It wasn’t until moonlight speared through the curtains that I realized how long I had been lying here.
Perhaps he still believed my blood was poisoned, but that was impossible.
Drusilla made it clear that it faded . . .
I should have thought to find the gas lamps before darkness fell. A yawn encroached, and I tugged the blanket to my shoulders. The smell of dust clung to me, but it was an issue I would deal with in the morn. If the waterworks were not functioning, I would take a dip in that pond.
My mind wandered as the comfort of the bed dragged me into a restful state.
Such comfort had not touched my body in ages. I did not even mind that guts, dirt, and gore smeared across the bed.
A bath would be lovely, but I was just much too tired to move. I dozed. I had nearly lost consciousness when the door creaked.
Footsteps approached. “I have prepared a bath for you.”
“Once dawnlight comes,” I mumbled.
Cassiel gathered me against his chest.
I groaned, but my eyelids wouldn’t be pried open. His smell of leather and ink filled my nose, accompanied by a damp cleanliness. I searched for the source, and my nose grazed his bare chest. Cassiel had bathed.
“Put me down,” I mumbled against his soft skin.
‘Settle.’
Tension leaked from my limbs as my body reacted to his presence. I sighed and let myself rest against him, my eyes falling closed.
Cassiel finally slowed and lowered me, plopping me on the edge of a cushion. I pried my eyes open. He’d brought me to the bathing chamber. It was simple with a tub full of fresh water running through the pipes. Steam came off the top. A small chestnut table stood beside the tub.
I rested my hands on the cushion I sat upon. It seemed that all the furnishings were covered with the same cloth design.
He crouched, and still, his head hovered near mine.
The Warlord was so blasted tall. With a careful touch, he pulled off my slippers, setting them aside carefully.
Then he stood, stepped around the stool he’d placed me on and began to unlace the messy knot I tied at my back.
Bit by bit, the slight ribbing at the sides of the torso of the dress loosened.
“Go, I will bathe myself.”
He did not give me a response, finishing with the final of the stays. I stood and tugged the dress off, letting it pool on the ground. I extricated myself from his touch, went to the tub myself, and slipped under the warmth.
He hovered near, his chest fully on display. I pointedly studied the clear water. He seemed to have filled it with fresh water as there were no bubbles or suds.
“Lean forward,” Cassiel ordered.
I held my hand out for the soap. Instead of handing it to me, his hand clasped my shoulder and forcibly pushed me.
My breasts dipped into the water, and Cassiel began to slide the bar of soap along my shoulders and back. Rubbing with careful glides that soothed. I relaxed into the ministrations, too tired to truly fight him off.
With each rub and caress of my back, my shoulders relaxed. He was reducing me to pure sensation.
Then he began to do the rest of my body.
His large hands slid to my front, arms braced at my sides as they reached to rub over my breasts.
The gentle touch stole my capacity to think.
Despite the sweeps of his hands remaining impersonal, my body reacted.
My nipples pebbled. Cassiel lingered over the swells a bit longer.
My breathing elevated, a wave of desire crashing through me.
This was another reason why I would never be rid of him. His touch inflamed me in a way I had never felt. I wanted it even though I hated him. Even though I resented him and what he had done.
The pleasure he brought my body erased all the pain from my mind. All the thoughts that crowded—the suffocating grief—left while I was in his arms.
And I desperately craved oblivion.
I let out a shaking exhale.
Cassiel drew the soap downward, rubbing the slippery surface down to my navel, and even lower. To the tuft between my legs. Goose flesh rose along my skin. He reached my sex.
I sucked in a breath, stilling in the tub. Cassiel leaned forward until his cheek pressed against mine. Rosah coated the chamber and mingled with his scent.
Cassiel did not stop touching between my legs. My thighs parted more to offer him better reach. He took full advantage, sliding his finger past the soap and rubbing against the bud of nerves. I gasped, jerking as he pressed it.
My body came alive with need. A feverish desire that wanted to devour him whole. He reached his other arm around and pressed his palm against my belly while his finger continued rubbing the bud in slow circling rubs.
His soft skin rubbed against my shoulders, his chin running up and down the side of my face.
Tingles spread down to my toes, forcing them to curl.
My hips refused to still, and I moved against his hand, for more, harder, deeper, yet Cassiel kept the slow pace.
It caused a rush of lust so intense it stole any capability of thought.
I gasped, my head tipping back.
Cassiel continued the roll of his finger. Throbs wracked my channel. I stiffened, curling forward. Cassiel’s hand on my belly kept me in place. I rode through the release. He knew exactly how to touch my body.
With a whimper, my body relaxed again, the climax rendering me limp. The pulsing continued between my legs.
In this area, I could not fault him. His touch withdrew, sliding up my hip before squeezing it. He trailed his fingertips over the skin, so gently. Cassiel hadn’t moved his head from against mine; he nuzzled against my ear, inhaling.
His touch had only spawned more hunger. Turning me into a frantic woman who wanted to be filled by him and only him.
I stilled.
There was no need to deny myself. I had become a fallen woman. A thrill traveled through my belly—I could do as I wished. Even mount him on my own. I twisted in the tub, water splashing about as I faced him. His eyes widened, then I pressed my mouth against his and kissed him.
He remained still for a moment, but wrenched into action when I speared my tongue into his mouth. A sharp sting pinched my tongue, and the taste of copper flooded my mouth.
Cassiel gripped my hair and moaned, angling his head as he stroked his tongue across mine to lick the spot with the cut.
His hands sought my body, sliding over my ribcage and spanning the sides.
He didn’t detach from my mouth as he hoisted me to my feet, gliding his palms lower until they cupped my bottom.
He grabbed at me with such desperation that matched my own.
I grasped his shoulders and pulled my front tighter to his chest while I lifted my thighs to brace his hips. I sank against him and deepened the kiss. Every part inside me pulsed with the urge to show him his body was just as weakened for me.
He groaned and began to walk. How he mustered strength to stand at all eluded me. The angle rubbed my sex against his muscled stomach. Hard enough to feel delightful. I moaned, arching my spine.
I pulled back from his lips with a pant.
Stairs creaked as he ascended. He backed into the door to open it, his focus never shifting from me.
When I straightened my legs and pointedly wriggled, he lowered me with his head angled to watch me.
I landed on my feet and took hold of the front of his trousers to pull at the laces.
It took a few skillful tugs, and I had the stays loosened.
I pulled them open and his length bobbed out. Thick and flushed red.
Seed wept from the tip.
I gave in to the urge to lick it. The heady taste lingered on my tongue. A slight chill always accompanied his skin, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Cassiel’s knees buckled, and he dropped onto the edge of the bed. He watched me with wide eyes as I remained frozen.
He seemed utterly shocked by his weakness.
His mouth opened, but I was already moving forward with my hands on his shoulders and knees pressing into the edge of the bed. I straddled his waist, hovering over him. Cassiel watched me. The line where the two colors met in the middle of his irises pulsated.
I pressed on his shoulders until he lay back. His body stretched, the silky skin covering his muscles twitching from the stretch.
I took a moment to admire the specimen before me. He was pure, compact muscle. I ran my hands down his chest, following the divots carved in his flesh.
Mine.
The word came, unbidden and possessive, bringing with it a wave of desire so intense it made me feel aflame.
His mouth remained parted with pants leaving his mouth.
I leaned forward, pressing on my knees, as Cassiel watched through half-lidded eyes. With my hands on his shoulders, I eased myself on top of him, pressing myself so close that my breasts rubbed against his chest.