Sorin
Ember waited patiently while I locked my desk drawer. She ran my house seamlessly, and over the years had become a satisfactory bedding partner.
“And she didn’t refuse or baulk at her duties?”
“No, Alpha,” she said, soft enough that my eyes flicked up.
I pulled the keys from the lock and slipped them into my pocket.
“You pity her.”
Ember was an orphan from the Crescent Blood Moon pack. Contrary to the rumours, I hadn’t slaughtered everyone. Their leader had been an abomination to our kind.
“You know what her father stole from me.”
“He did,” she said, meeting my eyes. “She didn’t.”
There was no point discussing the matter with her. Not when I couldn’t understand myself why the wolfless waif was such an irritant.
“It’s time for my bath,” I said, standing.
She rolled her eyes. One of the few who could.
? ? ?
When I entered my bathroom, the large tub was steaming and the waif was on her knees, head ducked low.
“Am I expected to undress myself?”
Her head came up slowly, and there it was—the loathing in those eyes. Exactly what I wanted. She rose from the floor and crossed to me. By the time she stopped, her gaze had lowered again. Her hands came up and began unfastening my shirt buttons.
She was careful not to touch my flesh, but she paused when she pulled my shirt open. My ink had been carefully designed to leave bare skin over my heart and along my side—for when I found my mate. She leaned in as she dragged the shirt down my arms.
I frowned. A faint scent. There, then gone.
We stared at her.
I shook my head to clear it. It had to be the bath. But it was wrong. Nothing in that water smelled like this.
Malakh growled, low and deep.
“What did you put in my bath?” I growled, gripping her arm until she gasped.
“Only what was already there,” she snapped.
I grunted and loosened my grip before pushing her back.
“Trousers.”
She ripped my belt free as if contemplating beating me with it. I almost patted her head. I’d never had a female personal servant. This was more fun than I’d anticipated.
The belt hit the floor. She practically tore the button off before tugging the zipper down. My trousers dropped and pooled around my feet. Her fingers hooked the waistband of my boxers and pushed them down my legs.
Her hand slapped across her mouth, muffling her gasp.
Malakh was legendary for his size.
As was I.
I stepped out of my clothes and climbed into the bath.
The temperature was perfect. I closed my eyes and settled back until my head rested on the porcelain curve. I let the warmth work into my muscles.
“Am I expected to bathe myself?”
When there was no movement, no sound, I opened one eye and frowned. She looked like a rabbit in headlights, frozen in place.
“Y-you want me to bathe you?” she stuttered.
I lifted the folded washcloth and tossed it in her direction.
One long sigh of resignation, and she bent to scoop the washcloth off the floor. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and reached for the bar of soap. I closed my eyes when her breasts came into view. My reaction beneath the water was natural and swift.
She began at my neck, my shoulders, then moved to my chest. Rough at first. Then her movements slowed.
I caught a hint of something new in the air.
The same note as before, only deeper. Rich enough to make my mouth water. My eyes flew open as she washed my arm.
Was she aroused?
The steam had tightened her curls. I’d never noticed how full and thick her hair was. Her gaze was still hooded. Then my eyes dropped lower. The front of her dress was wet.
And entirely transparent.
Nipples so large I could feast on those alone for days.
I caught her wrist and guided her hand into the water.
She gulped and tried to pull back when her hand brushed my cock.
“I-I can’t do that,” she said, flying off the edge of the bathtub.
I still held her wrist, so she didn’t get far.
“Do what? Surely you can’t expect the Alpha King to wash his own cock?”
A strangled sound erupted from her.
“I’ve never even seen one before,” she gasped.
My brow furrowed and I stared at her while she twisted her wrist in my grip.
“What age are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
Too old to have never taken a dick. Unless the wolf—ahh.
I reluctantly released her wrist.
Great. Now I had a bone and nowhere to bury it. Her wolfless status was inconvenient. I considered calling for Ember, but as my eyes landed on—
“What’s your name?”
“Aliana.”
“You may leave,” I grunted.
She turned and bolted from the bathroom.
All that was left was my left hand or my right, and neither appealed.
Fuck.