Chapter 19
How did I end up in this situation? My nerves, oddly calm during the conversation with Dion, roared to life and raced through my body with a force that left me breathless.
During the last few minutes, both Dion and I had sat up. Me, dressed in a nightgown I’d worn much too long—I only vaguely remembered how I’d changed into the garment after my breakdown—him, clothed in black silk, fit for the prince he was.
What had possessed me to ask him to make out with me? Although we’d agreed on no strings attached, this endeavor felt like dancing on a precipice, with unforeseeable consequences that scared me to no end.
His suggestion of creating new memories to combat the negative ones wasn’t without logic and was worth a try—and that was the only reason why I didn’t abort the project—although there was always the chance the whole pursuit would turn out to be a massive failure.
Fidgeting with my hands, I did my best not to succumb to my usual cowardice.
“Word…which word? Oh, yes. That’s a good one. Schnapps. Because alcohol makes you powerless.” The giggle I couldn’t stifle bordered on hysterics.
“One of these days, oh tiny one, your big mouth will get you in giant trouble.” Dion’s gaze burned into me with an intensity I’d only seen a few times before, and without noticing, I toyed with one of my locks in a desperate attempt to distract myself.
My reply, though meant to be flirty, was more of a squeal than proper speech.
“Oh yes? And what will you do about it?”
“That’s a surprise.” Dion rose and rested his eyes on me before extending his oversized hand in a gesture impossible to misunderstand.
After a second of hesitation, I released my hair and slid my hand into his.
When he pulled me from the bed, I braced myself to end up in his arms. But he surprised me because he stalked to the washroom with me in tow.
“What?” Oh well, I’d never been the most eloquent person, so what if my speech deteriorated even further?
“Stop asking so many questions, Naya,” he chuckled as he opened the door, leading me to a stool in front of the vanity. “Sit.”
For once, I didn’t object to his commands. Even though we hadn’t started yet—we hadn’t, had we?—I remembered I’d been given tools to stay in control. Somehow, this was a heady feeling, one I couldn’t completely explain.
Dion spun me around so I was facing away from the mirror hanging over the vanity, and he positioned himself between the piece of furniture and me.
A thousand questions lay on my tongue, and I couldn’t resist attempting to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, but he tutted and, reaching over my shoulder, directed my head straight using his finger, which he’d placed under my chin.
Moments after his touch had disappeared, my eyes widened, and the compulsion to purr held me hostage as he drew a hairbrush through my hair, taking great care not to rip at my scalp.
And if there had been a spike of pain, the sensation would have dispersed as soon as it had come, since his other hand followed the brush, smoothing my locks.
“Oh.” Was it always this oddly sensual when someone else cared for my tresses? Not only was my scalp tingling, but I also had constant shivers running down my spine.
Of course, part of the effect might originate from Dion behind me radiating heat, the fire in his eyes matching his scorching temperature as well.
He shifted, and then his breath caressed the shell of my ear, his lips only inches away from my skin, never stopping to pay attention to my locks. “Do you like this?” Dion purred with audible smugness because my enjoyment must have been obvious.
Especially since my skin had started to pebble.
Oh yes, I was way over my head.
“This is very pleasant.” My voice was only a shaky whisper, and as his lips touched my jaw for just a second, an eruption of incandescence in my veins evacuated all doubts.
After that single, barely there kiss, he straightened and concentrated on his self-imposed task again. The following minutes felt like hours, and when he placed the hairbrush back on the vanity, he’d reduced me to a real mess. Who could have guessed that this male had it in him to be so caring?
Fine, stupid question. He’d shown his doting side often enough before.
“Good.” Yes, he was definitely puffing his chest as he extended his hand to me once more. “Come, you wanted to bathe, didn’t you?”
Grabbing on to him as if he were an anchor, I rose with unsteady legs. Confusion dominated my expression as I glanced in the direction of the copper tub.
When had he started to fill the basin?
Dion must have sensed my bewilderment because seconds later, I got a prime view of his dimples, if only for a second. I lost sight of them, for his lips were close to my ear again.
“My tendrils have many, many uses. Sometimes, even practical ones, like opening the water flow of a tub.”
His eyes radiated pride, and the ever-present predator in him lingered close to the surface.
Dion was all lethal grace, and he emanated a sensuality I’d never witnessed before, except maybe catching hints here and there.
But at this moment, he exuded pure seduction, and my head spun.
The closest I’d ever experienced him like this had been back in Rastialla—in what would forever be known as the Towel Incident.
Dion’s fingers brushed over my shoulders and toyed with the fabric of my nightgown.
“This needs to go so you can take a bath,” he purred and, slow enough for me to object, tugged at the white fabric.
My breath caught in my throat as I comprehended that I’d soon be bare to him, and from the sultriness in his expression, he’d reached the same conclusion.
Green destroyed fabric flashed in front of my inner eye, and I tensed. The ascent of my nightgown stopped without hesitation, its hem playing around my knees.
This wasn’t the past. I wasn’t wearing the abomination of a dress, and Dion wasn’t Jelric, not even close. Both were predators, but of a different kind—they were worlds apart. Taking a deep breath, I faced the prince. “Green,” I whispered, and I didn’t mean the horrible gown.
Dion emitted approval at the use of our code and proceeded to gather more and more of my nightdress around my shoulders, the hem climbing up inch by inch.
His observation didn’t stray from my face, and before my mind could comprehend, the white cloth brushed over my head and landed on the ground, leaving me in just my underthings. They were simple and white as well but didn’t cover much of my body.
Dion’s lips curled into a sensual smile as he allowed his eyes to roam over my bare skin. His slow, languid perusal left scorch marks in its wake wherever his gaze lingered.
When his unconcealed examination moved from my stomach to my breasts, his pupils blew out and his nostrils flared. He remained frozen in his special fae-way, and under his visual caress, I could feel my nipples stiffen.
How could he have such an impact on me when most other people couldn’t cause a fraction of what was coursing through my body? And he wasn’t even touching me.
No, he hadn’t even tried advancing further. Yet.
But the next moment, he broke his statuesque trance, and his hand rose to my chest. My throat bobbed, but to my surprise, he didn’t reach for my breasts. Instead, his fingertips came to rest on the weird spot under my collarbone. Most of the time, the colors were hidden by some magic, but not now.
There was still fire in his expression, but something akin to reverence dominated.
Dion had mentioned that this mark meant I’d been touched by magic, but also that there was a chance the design would disappear.
However, lately I was having my doubts about that.
If anything, the colorful flecks had expanded and gained visibility as well as radiance.
Where there had been only red splotches before, blue components and some faint purple traces had appeared.
Yet this mark with the name I’d already forgotten was clearly an unfinished design. So, maybe the pattern would vanish again after all.
And although Dion’s current reaction was very different from what I’d expected, I wasn’t in my right mind to ask for the meaning of the colors again.
Dion’s fingers traced the mark for a moment longer, then drew his hand back and caught my eyes again. “Beautiful.”
Blushing, I averted my eyes.
“Why are you better at accepting insults than compliments?” Dion chuckled, and his hands moved lower, lingering on the dip of my waist.
“I don’t know.”
Another chuckle escaped him, and he leaned closer.
His lips fluttered over my cheek, more breath than touch, and his hands inched lower until his fingers hooked into the waistband of my underthings.
Before I could register what he was doing, the last piece of clothing slipped down my legs—I even forgot to argue his outrageous last declaration.
Oh gods, I was completely naked.
And clearly, Dion wasn’t unaffected. He let out a shuddering breath and shut his stormy eyes.
Liquid fire dripped into my core simply because the tension between us was electrifying. Neither of us moved as we stood like this, him fully clothed, hands on my naked hips, and me utterly exposed.
A mean, intrusive idea flashed into my mind. Was he exaggerating his reactions for my sake?
For me, this was all new and maybe scary, but for him? He’d never explicitly stated so, but I was sure he’d been sexually active. Of course, he must have been, since fae enjoyed fu—intimacy.
My throat tightened at the thought of him and all the other females who’d been undressed in front of him, and as if Dion sensed me spiraling, he caught himself and led me to the tub. “In with you before the water gets cold.”
“The last time someone helped me bathe was almost twenty winters ago.”
“I hope this is different.”
“It sure is.”
Of course, I wanted to be brave and bold, but nothing could change the fact that I was the opposite of that.
“Stop it.”
“What…do you mean?”
“Your mind is racing, and according to the wrinkles on your forehead, you’re worrying about something.”
“Perhaps asking you for this wasn’t fair.”
Dion canted his head, alerting me to his confusion. “Huh?”
“You know, replacing and such.”
A scoff tumbled from his lips, and he flicked my nose. “Stupid tiny female.” Amusement was oozing from him as he bullied me into the tub. “Why would you possibly worry about fairness?”
“Well, I’m not exactly…uhh—”
“Let me stop your self-doubting self there. Maybe the truth is hard for you to grasp, but this isn’t a sacrifice for me.
Believe me, after your confession that you’re trusting me with your body—gods, Nayana.
If you hadn’t suffered a horrible trauma, I would’ve seduced you then and there.
Setting up ground rules was for your benefit, and seeing you so beautifully unveiled in front of me, I can only pat past me on the shoulder for being so thoughtful and considerate, because present me has a hard time grasping only a single reasonable thought.
So, whatever lie you tell yourself, forget it. ”
With that, Dion grabbed a sponge, and, after wetting the soft item, he brushed it over my skin.
My lungs had tightened during his little speech, and even though there had been a lot he’d proclaimed that I didn’t want to unpack, something remained. He wasn’t secretly hating this, and he wanted me to stop worrying. And so, I’d try.
Dion dispensed soap on the sponge and washed every single inch of me, and despite not lingering on any intimate spot, the longer he spent cleaning my skin, the more I feared I’d combust. And when he set the sponge aside, he lathered up his hands and began to wash my hair.
When he foamed up my tresses and massaged my scalp, a groan escaped my lips. “Oh gods, Dion.”
“Look at that. I’ve barely done anything, and you already call me divine. Although…I don’t fancy the competition. It’s god, not gods.”
I didn’t have a retort for that; the center in my brain responsible for witty remarks had shut down as soon as he’d started massaging my head.
The motion was relaxing on one hand, but on the other hand, the inferno building within me burned brighter, and when he rinsed my hair, followed by him helping me out of the tub, I was already mad with arousal.
Dion’s nostrils flared as he grabbed a towel and rubbed the fabric over my skin to dry me. “You have no idea how hard a time I have keeping things slow with you when you smell like that.”
“You chose the soap.”
“I’m not talking about the soap.”
“What else then?”
“Your desire is perfuming the air around you, and it’s maddening.”
“You can smell that?”
“My senses are extremely sensitive. Most likely, I could scent you from the other end of the castle.”
Oh no, this was simply a nightmare.
As so often today, blood gathered in my cheeks, and I mulled over this unexpected revelation until Dion hummed in satisfaction about how well he’d done his task of drying me.
Shoving my mortification far, far away, I faced the male.
“Still green, Naya?”
“Yes.”
“Then follow me.”