Chapter 27 Submit to Romantic Treatments
(Despite Wanting to Murder Each Other)
Arabella
The venom creates a tingling sensation that opens your pores while simultaneously dissolving the top three layers of dead skin.
” The spa attendant held up a jar of purple liquid containing a particularly angry jellyfish.
She wore the spa’s uniform—a flowing black robe with silver embroidery that made her look like she was officiating a cult ritual rather than explaining beauty treatments.
“It’s completely safe when administered properly. ”
I stared at the translucent creature pushing against the glass. Its tentacles glowed with green light that screamed, “I will kill you painfully and without remorse.”
“Define ‘safe,’ ” I said.
“Well, the fatality rate is under ten percent.” The attendant’s smile never wavered. “And those are mostly due to allergic reactions. Or improper handling. Or that one incident with the siren who tried to make friends with it.”
“Fascinating,” I said, taking an instinctive step away from the jar. “But I think I’ll pass on having deadly toxins rubbed into my face today.”
The attendant nodded. “As you wish, my lady. Perhaps you’d prefer our volcanic hot stone massage? The stones are harvested from active volcanoes and blessed by fire elementals.”
“That sounds—” Less immediately lethal? “—lovely.”
Beside me, Kazimir stood like a statue, his face a mask of rigid control. He hadn’t spoken more than three words to me all morning, and those had been “Get dressed. Now.” He’d barely looked at me since the disaster at the Gilded Gallows, and I’d been too furious to attempt conversation.
The Twilight Wine had worn off hours ago, leaving me with nothing but a headache and the crystal-clear memory of him trying to compel me to stay put while he chased after Pip. Unfortunately, the wine didn’t cause hallucinations. What I’d seen had been real.
And what I’d seen was my husband attempting to use his power to control me, just like every other man in my life had tried to do.
The worst part? When I’d looked into Kaz’s eyes at the Gilded Gallows, I’d seen someone else looking back. Someone who’d wanted to hurt me.
And I’d known it wasn’t Kazimir.
I’d spent the night alone in our suite, alternating between rage and hurt, waiting for him to return so I could properly eviscerate him.
But dawn had come, and he’d still been gone.
When he finally appeared, disheveled and hollow-eyed, the Alchemist’s message had arrived immediately after, summoning us to the spa.
So here we were, trapped in a bizarre wellness center with a woman who thought deadly venom made an excellent beauty product, pretending everything was fine. The only thing keeping me from setting something on fire was the knowledge that the Alchemist would use any perceived weakness against us.
Speaking of…
“When will the Alchemist be joining us?” I asked the attendant.
“Oh, not until after your treatments! They’re getting their weekly acid peel. Takes about three hours to properly dissolve the old face and grow a new one. In the meantime, we have many options for our honeymoon package—”
“Honeymoon package?” Kazimir’s voice could have frozen lava.
The attendant’s smile somehow grew wider. “The Alchemist insisted on our most romantic couple’s experience! They said you two lovebirds deserved the full treatment after your whirlwind journey.”
I felt my husband’s magic spike dangerously. Before he could do something we’d regret—like turn the attendant into a jellyfish for his very own—I grabbed his arm. His muscles were rigid under my touch.
“How thoughtful of them,” I said with my most glittering smile.
Three hours. Three hours of pretending everything was fine while my husband and I could barely stand to be in the same room.
The attendant’s smile grew strained as she glanced between us. “Wonderful! If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to our volcanic therapy room.”
She led us through the Villainous Corporate Retreat & Spa, a labyrinth of black marble and obsidian that occupied an entire level of the God Spire.
The decor was exactly what you’d expect from a high-end resort catering exclusively to villains: elegant, opulent, and just a touch macabre.
Crystal chandeliers shaped like human rib cages.
Plush velvet lounges the color of fresh blood.
Fountains powered by the wails of tortured souls.
I had to admit it was impressive. Under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed it.
We passed a room where a group of necromancers in fluffy black robes were getting pedicures from tiny undead beetles. In another chamber, a demon lord floated in a pool of what appeared to be liquid gold, his many eyes closed in bliss.
“Here we are!” The attendant stopped before a set of double doors made from volcanic glass. “Your private therapy suite.”
She pushed open the doors to reveal a dimly lit room dominated by two massage tables. The air was heavy with the scent of sulfur and exotic incense. In the center of the room, a pit of glowing coals radiated heat, and arranged neatly beside it were rows of black stones that glowed with inner fire.
“Please disrobe and lie face down on the tables,” the attendant said. “Your therapists will be with you shortly.”
Kazimir’s only response was a grunt that might have been agreement or might have been a warning that he was about to murder everyone in the vicinity. Hard to tell.
I sighed. This was going to be a long day.
She left, closing the doors behind her with a soft click. The silence that descended was suffocating.
I went behind my screen and started undressing, hyperaware of every rustle of fabric. On the other side of the room, I heard Kazimir not moving at all.
“Are you going to just stand there?” I asked as I took a silk robe from its hook.
“Yes. No one touches me except you.”
I shoved down the complicated feelings his confession stirred up and poked my head around the screen. “We need to present a united front. You know that.”
“I’m aware,” he snapped. Then he let out a tense breath. “We’re wasting valuable time. Let’s just come back in three hours to meet with the Alchemist.”
“They’ll know something’s wrong if we don’t participate.” I headed toward one of the massage tables. “So if we’re stuck here, we might as well make the best of it.”
The heat from the coals warmed my skin as I removed my robe, leaving only my undergarments. I could feel Kazimir’s eyes on me, a tangible weight that sent a shiver down my spine.
Damn him. Even furious, I still wanted him.
I lay face down on the massage table, arranging a soft black towel over my lower half. “Are you going to join me, or are you going to stand there brooding the entire time?”
“I’ll pass,” he said stiffly.
“Suit yourself.”
Two attendants entered—different from the jellyfish enthusiast, thankfully. They were identical, with skin that shimmered and eyes that reflected light like a cat’s. Without speaking, they moved to the pit of coals and began selecting stones with metal tongs.
One approached my table while the other stood awkwardly looking at Kazimir.
“My husband will be observing today,” I said smoothly.
The attendant nodded and the other set to work, placing hot stones along my spine. The heat sank into my muscles, and I couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped me. It felt divine, the tension of the past twelve hours beginning to melt away.
Until Kazimir spoke.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
The attendant froze, a stone hovering inches above my shoulder blade.
“The stones should follow the meridian lines,” he said coldly, “not the spine.”
I turned my head to look at him. “Since when are you an expert on hot stone massage?”
“Since I studied with the fire monks of the Ashen Wastes.” He approached the table, radiating power and irritation. “Leave us,” he commanded the attendants. “I’ll handle this myself.”
They practically fled the room, the door closing behind them with a thud that echoed in the sudden silence. Kazimir selected one of the stones.
I propped myself up on my elbows, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but then he placed the stone on my shoulder, and… oh.
Oh.
The pressure was perfect, the heat radiating through layers of tension I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.
He added another stone, then another, each placement deliberate and precise.
When his hands touched my back, I nearly jumped off the table.
Not from fear or anger, but from the electricity that shot through me at the contact.
“I didn’t know you studied with monks,” I said, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
His hands moved to my lower back, fingers pressing into knots of muscle with expert precision. “When I was looking for the artifact. The fire monks believe that true mastery of the self begins with understanding the body’s energy pathways. Mostly, it’s about the way the body channels magic.”
His touch was impersonal, clinical almost, but devastatingly effective.
Each press of his fingers sent waves of pleasure-pain through my body, releasing tension and replacing it with a warm, liquid sensation.
His dominion magic hummed faintly through his touch, not compelling but soothing, like a warm current flowing through my muscles.
Hands worked lower, finding every ache, every pain, every spot that made me melt into the table.
This was Kazimir without words—taking care of me the only way he knew how when everything else between us was fractured.
We lapsed into silence, the only sound the occasional hiss from the coals and my own involuntary sighs as he worked magic with his hands.
Despite everything, my body was responding to his touch.
Desire pooled between my thighs, and I resisted the urge to squirm.
I’d known Kaz was good at this—he’d given me massages before—but with all the heightened emotions between us, every touch felt like fire.
I pressed my face into the table to muffle the completely inappropriate sound that wanted to escape.