The Bathhouse
Daphne
The back door of The Viceroy’s Seat led to a sinister alley.
A cat watched us slip into the maze of narrow streets, which Emrys navigated with ease.
We walked in the starlight, the sounds of the city fading behind us.
Soon, there was only the distant barking of dogs, the crickets, and our hurried steps over the ancient cobblestones.
I walked close to Emrys, sensing his warmth.
“Are you afraid, Daphne?” he asked.
The shadows around lengthened, and there was something unknown mixed with the smell of hot sand and fig trees.
“Why? Are we followed?” I squealed.
He chuckled. “No, we’re not. Maerya had led them astray. Nibble has also a couple of tricks up his sleeve… or wing.”
I frowned, rubbing my arms. The night is getting colder. He noticed it and slung his arm around my shoulders, a gesture so intimate and unexpected that I nearly stumbled.
“You need to breathe,” Emrys said. “Come with me. Just for a while. Let’s forget about all this.”
He led me through the moonlit streets until we reached a crumbling building with an ornate door.
“What is this place, Emrys?”
“A place to put our worries away,” he said and knocked.
A lithe old man in a white robe answered. Emrys exchanged a few quiet words with him. He bowed low, vanishing into the night.
Emrys stood in the doorframe for a moment, then waved at me to follow him inside.
Warm steam hugged me like a soft blanket. The scent of orange blossoms and musk filled the air, drawing slow, deep breaths from me.
“What is this place?” I asked, following him down the steps covered in ornate tiles.
“Have you heard of a hammam?”
“A bathhouse?”
“A sanctuary,” he corrected gently. “For the weary. An escape from the outside world. And we have it all for ourselves.”
We stepped into a space carved from another time.
Water trickled in silver threads from lion-headed spouts, feeding shallow pools that gleamed like melted glass.
Emrys turned, watching as I took it all in. “This one hasn’t been open to the public for… centuries. It belonged to a sultan who sought peace among silence and steam.”
The marble walls glistened, rivulets of condensation running down the polished tiles. Steam clung to the high, arched ceiling. Rose petals floated on the surface of the shallow pools, carved into the floor. “Cannot blame him. This place is magical,” I said.
I sat on the octagonal platform at the center. Thin linen sheets draped it, faintly damp and warm from the stone beneath. I scooped sugared almonds from the silver tray loaded with fresh dates, figs, and tiny glasses of mint tea. “And we’re here alone?”
He towered over me, his eyes almost black behind the veils of steam. “Mhm.”
I looked around. He was right. The golden light of the bronze lanterns cast shifting patterns across the tiled floor. Even the plunge pool full of dark, still water behind me was empty.
Blood rushed to impossible places in my body. “Why did you bring me here, Emrys?” I asked.
He tilted his head, his damp hair framing the angles of his face. “To give you a choice, Miss Daphne.”
I swallowed hard, looking down at my hands. Pearls of sweat were building at my wrists. My fingers trembled. “You mean—”
The weight of his gaze pulled me like gravity, and I looked up. Dear Lord, he meant it.
“If you want to walk away from all this, you’re free to do it.”
For some moments, there was only the murmuring of water and the wild beating of my heart.
“You’re letting me go with parts of your power still inside me?” I whispered. “Won’t that leave you… weakened? Vulnerable to the Renegade?”
His fingers brushed along my jaw and gently lifted my chin.
“It will.”
My mind was racing. Freedom—at last! I could leave this city now and start a new life. The jewelry on me would be enough to buy me a small house anywhere…
And after that? What? What would I do when they came after me? The Renegade and his demons would never stop hunting me.
Hunting us.
Was I ready to leave this?
To walk away from Emrys Ravenborn?
“I will always protect you, even if you decide to walk away,” he said.
I cleared my throat. “Why?
He shifted his weight, his eyes never leaving mine. There was something new in those irises, gray, like stormy clouds. Something soft.
“I want you to have a choice.”
Freedom. I’d longed for it all my life. But freedom alone was not the same as belonging. It was not the same as choosing someone who sees all of you and stays.
Something cracked inside me: the walls keeping me away from who I really was.
“No, Emrys,” I rasped. “For too long, I was hiding. For too long, I was running away from who I was. From what I want. Not anymore. We’ll perform the ritual tomorrow.”
He leaned in so close I could see his dark, long lashes and the black stubble along his jawline. “Are you sure you want this, Daphne Draymoore?” His lips gently brushed mine.
“I am sure, Emrys,” I breathed.
His fingers trailed my hair. “Let’s celebrate this,” he said, offering his hand.
He led me to a shallow pool. Steam curled from the surface of the sapphire water.
Neatly folded towels embroidered in gold thread, and a single bar of olive soap lay on the floor beside it.
He pulled his shirt over his head, and my breath hitched.
Lantern light caught the planes of his chest, the faint scars along his ribs, the slow rise and fall of his breath.
He was beautiful—but not like a statue, like something weathered by battle and tempered by time.
“You’re staring, Miss Draymoore,” he teased, but his voice held a tremor.
I dipped my fingers into the warm water, watching the ripples spread. “You brought me to a place made for surrender,” I whispered. “What did you think I would do?”
He knelt behind me, his breath ghosting over my neck. “I hoped you’d choose to stay with me,” he said. “But I didn’t dare expect it.”
My eyes rose to meet his. “I didn’t just choose to stay with you. I’ve been choosing you since the catacombs.”
Steam curled between us. He reached for the buttons of my tunic and unfastened them slowly, reverently.
“Then let me worship you properly,” he said, voice loaded with dark promises.
My clothes fell on the floor like a whisper, and I entered the pool. The water was warm, soothing every ache. Emrys followed, his eyes darker than midnight. He kneeled before me, the water reaching his waist, and pulled me in.
It was just him close to me, the heat and our breath.
The world paused, blurred into some distant memory, and I thought that the old sultan was right.
Our kiss was slow as if we both tried to memorize how the other tasted.
Emrys’s arms closed around my waist, and my skin sprouted goosebumps.
He sat on the floor of the shallow pool and pulled me onto his lap.
That feral need was already carving me, and the feeling of his hardness between my legs made me arch into him.
His lips trailed down my neck, following the path of the fragrant droplets of water, then lingered on my breast.
“Let’s do a clean start, little thief. Here and now,” he purred against my wet skin. “Not as bound to each other by the whims of magic, but as people who chose each other.”
“Agree,” I muttered. And I really did—body, breath, and heart.
His tongue circled my nipple as he slowly—inch by inch—sheathed himself inside me, stretching me to a point where I needed to scream.
My fingers curled in his hair. “Emrys,” I breathed, unable to put my hunger into words.
His lips found mine again, and I started gliding up and down his cock.
The warm water against my skin, his firm hands around my waist, guiding me, the heat of his kiss—it all built up into a crescendo of desire.
Tasting more of him, taking more of him—that was all that mattered at this moment.
“You’ll be the death of me, little thief,” he moaned between kisses, thrusting himself with full force, biting my lip with that needle-sharp canine.
The world exploded in glowing confetti while I clenched around him.
“Daphne,” he whispered, fingers at my neck, pulling me in for another kiss—then he spilled himself inside me.
We remained in each other’s arms, panting.
How much time did we spend like this? Minutes? Hours? Did it matter? How long did we laugh, splashing water around and telling each other stories?
“Look, I’m an undyne,” he drawled, rising from the water, rose petals clinging to his inky hair. He grabbed me while I pretended to be frightened and carried me out of the pool.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on a fluffy towel spread out over the platform at the center.
Emrys was rubbing my back with rose oil, his deft fingers unknotting every sore muscle, massaging away every ache. My limbs were heavy from our love-making, and my eyes closing.
“I still remember how bruised and beaten you arrived at Duskmere Manor,” he said, lost in memories.
“All the scratches and bruises—they’re all gone now.
And I’d never let anyone hurt you again, Daphne Draymoore.
” His hands cupped my backside, squeezing my flesh.
“But in the name of all old, forgotten gods, I could never resist you when you’re lying naked before me.
” He leaned forward to kiss the back of my neck, and I felt his strained cock against me.
I lifted my hips, eager to sense more, the inside of my thighs already slick.
He pulled me to the edge of the dais and aligned himself against my dripping opening.
Without a word, he slid inside me, making me gasp.
The thrill of being taken in this position sent jolts of pleasure through all my cells.
Our bodies, slick with sweat and fragrant massage oil, glided against each other.
The soft towel brushed against my breasts and stomach, and Emrys slid a hand around my waist, reaching between my legs to my clit.
His fingers circled it gently while he pumped with savage ferocity, the contrast making my brain shut down.
When the waves of pleasure swept me away, and I clenched around him, he unleashed himself.
And this time, my name on his lips was not a prayer or a memory; it was a claim, a promise of blood and magic.
The night of Cairo swallowed our laughter when we walked back to the Minaret later. It was past midnight; the moon's crescent grin shone brightly above us. I looked over my shoulder now and then, but his warm, calloused hand around mine made me feel safe.
For the first time, I trusted my fate—believed I was exactly where I was meant to be, that the path I’d chosen was the right one. And with that came a quiet, rising power.
Whatever tomorrow held, I was ready to face it.