Chapter 11 #3
The unmistakable sound of his trousers hitting the floor echoes as I tug the shirt out of my face.
His ass is perfection. But it’s the many scars across his back that draw my eyes. This man has known a lifetime of war and no matter how teasing his tone might be, there’s always an edge in his eyes, a hint of darkness in his tone that indicates the savagery within him could rise at any moment.
I catch a glimpse of the mirror opposite him and realize he’s watching me watch him.
My cheeks burn, but I don’t look away. Instead, I examine him.
He seems bigger in the flesh, every muscle obscenely glistening as he steps into the bath.
Thick dark hair arrows down from his navel into a thatch that surrounds the enormous jut of his cock.
I have to look away then.
I’ve seen one before, but I’ve never wanted to touch one.
“I will have you, Zyla,” he says with a faint smile. “It is inevitable.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“But right now, I’m enjoying the chase.” He sinks into the bathtub, steam curling around him.
A shiver runs through me.
Tonight. I need to know the truth tonight.
Because I do not think I could ever submit to him if he is the bastard who stole my sister.
It feels absolutely criminal to luxuriate in a steaming warm bath whilst Kari is out there, probably terrified out of her skin. Thunder rumbles through the skies outside as I scrub myself clean, plagued by guilt.
Kari.
The pragmatic side of me argues that I should cut my losses and concentrate on finding the Beast and discovering what happened to my sister.
I’ve barely known Kari more than a handful of days.
But something holds me back…
You weren’t there when Aylin needed you the most… You weren’t there when the knights took her.
A small part of me wonders if I rescue Kari, maybe then I can finally bury the gut-deep unease that assaults me every time I lay my head upon a pillow.
The Beast.
Bael.
I sink up to my chin in the water. Tonight is the crossroads.
As if my thoughts summon him, a knock sounds at the door.
Bael disappeared downstairs in order to discover more about de Mahl’s auction and give me a chance to bathe in privacy.
“Wait!” I snatch a towel and haul myself out the tub, swiftly drying myself. The silky nightgown will have to do, though I feel worse than naked with no drawers on. I tug it over my head.
“Are you decent?” Bael calls.
“Nearly!” I glance at the wine glasses, then dart toward my supply of Amara’s well water and fill his glass. I add normal water to mine. Now I just have to make him drink it. “Ready!”
Bael enters the room, his hair still wet from his bath. He dumps a bag on the bed, and a collar and leash spill out. “Supplies,” he says. “If you make your decision.”
“Thanks. Water?” I offer him his glass.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I roll my eyes. “Drink, first. Then we’ll chat. I want to clean away these dishes.”
Bael tips the glass to his lips and swallows. He finishes half the cup as I sip my own.
What now?
How long will it take?
“Did you hear anything else about Kari?” I ask as I grab the hair brush and sink onto the footstool.
“Here,” he says, dragging one of the armchairs behind me. “Let me.”
I freeze as he takes the small pot of oil from the tray in front of us.
“Relax.” Bael gathers a fistful of my hair up, running his hands through it until he’s captured it all. My hair spills over his hands like dark silk and he begins to massage the oil through.
The smell of it takes me back to my childhood.
“My mother used to do this for me,” I murmur, muscles easing as he digs his fingers and thumbs into my scalp, applying just enough pressure that I’m forced to catch the low moan I make in my throat.
“And then my sister and I did it for each other once Mother was gone.” Again, that hint of tension returns.
“But it’s not common among those who are not of my people. How do you know to start at the scalp?”
“My brother has a bride who oils her hair once a week,” he murmurs, slowly working the oil through to the tips of my hair. “He does it for her. I’ve watched them enough times and…” His fingers still for a moment, before he continues. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to do this.”
I glance over my shoulder. His enormous, callused hands gently coax the tangles from my hair, his expression seemingly absorbed in the task. “For a mate?”
Hot amber eyes lift to mine and that distant mask returns. “I’m not here for a mate for myself.”
“Why? You’re attractive. Powerful. A fierce warlord who could provide for a wife.” I can’t resist a small shrug. “It’s not as though it would be difficult for you to find one.”
He continues to work on a particularly stubborn knot. “No?”
“You’re handsome. And… protective.” I blurt the words, searching desperately for something to say that won’t condemn me. “And you have all your teeth.”
He barks a laugh. “Are those the traits that would tempt you?”
“Tempt me to do what?” I half turn, but he captures my hair, insisting I straighten. “Take a… husband?”
Bael laughs under his breath. “I didn’t ask you to kiss a rat. It’s merely marriage, not something distasteful.”
“Spoken like one who holds all the power in such a relationship.”
He’s silent for long moments.
“I understand why you would think such a thing. My people… we are not like the others in this world. Females are to be cherished and protected, but they are also powerful in their own right. A mate is taken to stand by one’s side.
To respect, to fight with shoulder to shoulder, and to yield to at times.
” His voice roughens. “I’m a naturally dominant male, and I won’t pretend that I wouldn’t be in control when it comes to matters of the bedchamber, but you and I—”
“But we’re talking of a potential mate,” I point out. “Not me.”
A slip of his tongue. He frowns.
A little tremor of nervousness goes through me. How much of the water did he drink? Is it enough?
“I made a bargain with Kasaros,” he murmurs as he braids my hair. “Over my mother’s deathbed. If he gave me the power to defeat my enemies, then I would sacrifice any hope I ever had of taking a mate.”
Bael blinks, and I realize he didn’t intend to tell me that.
I slide my hand over his thigh, trying to distract him from thinking too deeply upon the truths that slip from his lips. “Then why do you want to claim Kari?”
“For my brother.” His thumbs dig into my thighs, eyes slightly glazed. “Gods, you’re so beautiful.”
“Bael,” I protest.
“I never expected you to be so beautiful,” he murmurs. “In all my conjuring’s, I could not have imagined you.”
What does he mean? “Bael, you’re not making any sense. You imagined me?”
Bael presses his face into the palm of his hand, then shakes his head. “Ignore me.”
Suddenly, I very much want to know the answer. “No, I want to—”
He captures my hair in his fist, winding the braid around his knuckles as he hauls me closer.
Firm lips meet mine, capturing the gasp on my lips.
It’s not just the truth on his lips, it’s truth here now, between us.
All of his barriers are stripped away and I see the sheer hunger in his face as he drags me into his lap.
And I feel it answering deep within me.
Want.
Need.
Desire.
No matter my fears, my body know his.
“Bael,” I gasp as his mouth claims mine, hard and savage.
“Mine,” he grinds out, breathing the words against the skin of my throat. There’s something primitive and savage underlying the words, something that makes the lonely girl inside me thrill.
Hands envelope my ass, grinding me against him and I gasp again as I feel the thick rasp of his erection against my inner thigh. My hips rock, slickness dampening his trousers. His hands slide up underneath the nightgown, finding soft flesh and I am lost.
“Please,” I gasp, sinking my hands into his hair and kissing him back. We have to stop. We have to… I need answers.
“Bael.” I pull back, resting my forehead against his, but he comes after me again, claiming my mouth in another bruising kiss. “Bael, stop.”
A shudder runs through him and he stills, hands still on my ass. “Why?”
“You don’t want me,” I blurt.
His eyes are pure bronze, glittering with something inhuman. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you. You’re so fucking fierce and perfect and it makes my soul hunger.”
Uh. I feel like he’s punched me in the solar plexus. “This is not your first time in this Labyrinth,” I blurt. “Tell me about the other brides. Tell me… did you kiss them too? Did you tell them they were yours?”
Bael pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “No.”
I chase after the thought. “Have you ever killed a bride?”
“What? No!” His fist curls in my nightgown, but not with desire. Almost as if he feels the need to hold onto something. “I feel… strange.”
“Strange?”
“Tired,” he admits, blinking sleepy eyes at me.
His head lolls to the side and I capture him in my arms as he slumps. Malus’ Thorns. The weight of him is incredible. If I don’t get him on the bed, then he’ll simply crash to the floor. “Don’t you dare.” I grab his chin. “Bael, wake up.”
“What...” He blinks again. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Bael, stand up.”
Somehow, I manage to manoeuver him toward the bed. We crash onto the mattress together, thwarted desire and curiosity mingling within me.
I have to know.
I have to.
“The monster inside you,” I whisper. “What is it?”
Bael blinks at me, fighting the urge to close his eyes. “Hungry.”
“The truth!” I shake him.
Our eyes meet.
“You know the truth,” he growls.
And then his eyes roll up in his head.