23. Kaelus #2
Because if he allowed himself to continue, eventually Clair would get hurt. He couldn’t Bond her to him and so they could never be together. So he needed to take a step back right now.
And bathing her is taking a step back? whispered that same voice in his head.
Kaelus pushed it away. He would take a step back after he finished taking care of her, he promised himself. That shouldn’t be a problem.
Kaelus dipped the cloth again and gently washed the oil from her neck and clavicles.
Clair made a soft humming sound but didn’t open her eyes.
He carefully avoided her breasts because he wanted her to understand that this was different. He wasn’t trying to arouse her—he was caring for her.
When he moved to her back, he slid one arm beneath her shoulders and helped her lean forward. Her forehead came to rest against his chest.
The casual trust of the gesture nearly undid him. Kaelus had to stop himself from kissing the vulnerable nape of her neck, which he wanted desperately to do.
Instead, he washed her back slowly, removing the last traces of the shimmering oil from her skin.
Clair remained relaxed against him, breathing softly, and Kaelus found himself remembering all the times he had caught her before she fell, fed her when she forgot to eat, moved dangerous chemicals away from her, or covered her with his lab coat when she fell asleep in the laboratory.
He had always told himself that such actions were practical—she was his lab partner. Her safety affected his work.
What an extraordinary liar he had become, he thought bitterly. He had been caring for Clair long before Titus Four. Long before he admitted he wanted her.
Perhaps even before he consciously understood it himself.
“You’re very good at this,” she murmured, she said, breaking his train of thought.
“At bathing?” he asked, surprised.
“At taking care of people.”
Kaelus looked down at her damp curls.
“I have not had much practice.”
“That’s hard to believe,” she murmured.
He almost laughed—if only she knew how lonely his life had been.
There had never been anyone for him to care for this way.
Hybrid Kindred did not call brides—everyone knew it.
Oh, there were rare stories whispered among Hybrids about one or two of their kind forming a Bond, but they were little more than legends—the kind of improbable exceptions desperate males clung to when they were young and foolish enough to believe the Goddess might make an exception for them.
Kaelus had stopped believing long ago—stopped hoping for a bride. He had built a good life instead—a useful life.
Science gave him purpose. Medicine gave him purpose. Research gave him questions which could be answered through discipline, logic, and experimentation. There was comfort in knowing that if he worked hard enough and thought clearly enough, most mysteries could eventually be solved.
Then Clair Donovan had walked into his laboratory and become the one problem he could neither solve nor escape. She had captured his heart and there was nothing he could do about it.
He rinsed the cloth and gently cleaned the last traces of oil from her legs and feet, keeping his touch impersonal and careful. Clair seemed nearly asleep by the time he finished.
“All clean,” he murmured.
“Mmm.” She blinked at him sleepily. “All done?”
“All done, Lissa’ra,” he said, the sweet name slipping out.
Clair didn’t seem to mind. She just nodded again as Kaelus began draining the bath.
He lifted her from the water, and wrapped her in a large, heated towel from the warming cabinet. Clair sighed happily as the warmth surrounded her.
“Oh, I need one of these at home.”
“I am certain we can replicate it,” Kaelus said.
Her eyes opened slightly.
“You’d make me a heated towel cabinet?”
“Of course.”
The words emerged before he could stop them. Not “I could make one.” Or, “I would be happy to make one for you.” Just an agreement that he would do it, no matter what.
As though there would be a future after Titus Four for them. As though she would someday stand in his bathing room and reach for a towel he had warmed specifically for her.
Kaelus turned away before she could see the expression on his face.
He dried her gently, patting the water from her skin rather than rubbing. When he reached her hair, he found another soft towel and carefully squeezed the damp ends of her curls.
Clair smiled faintly.
“Aw, you’re fussing over me.”
“I am not,” Kaelus denied instantly.
“Yes you are, sugar. You’re definitely fussing.”
“You require drying,” he pointed out.
She gave him an amused smile.
“Uh-huh.”
Kaelus ignored her and continued what he was doing.
When she was dry, he carried her back into the sleeping chamber despite her weak protest that she possessed functioning legs. He sat her on the edge of the bed and found the nightgown she had worn the previous evening folded neatly among her belongings.
The sight of it brought an immediate rush of memory. Clair lying beside him…Clair touching herself for him…Clair watching him do the same. In his mind’s eye, he saw her flushed face…could hear her soft cries and smell her scent.