Chapter 38 #2
I rubbed aching arms as the servant was careful with each piece she removed from me, placing it atop the nearby dresser in the order it was to go back on.
When she reached for my undergarments, I assured her I could handle them myself, and so she went off to check the bath.
I could see the steam pouring from the bathing chamber as she gathered the fluffiest towels I'd ever seen and set them gently on the edge of the tub.
I inhaled the sweet scent of lilac and thought, if this is how humans unwind after a long day, I wouldn't mind working with them.
I thanked her before sliding into the tub.
She hesitated only a moment to ask if I needed anything further before promising to return with lunch and scurrying out of the room.
I heard the click of the door behind her as she went but the distinct lack of a lock.
So they weren't locking me in. Which only meant they suspected I'd have the urge to lock someone out.
I ruminated on who that might be as I slipped further into the bath, moaning in ecstasy at the hot water scalding my skin and sloughing off days of windswept dirt and grime.
I scrubbed at my skin with the coarse stone she'd left behind, musing about how these people seemed to use stones for everything.
I'd only just finished washing my hair, brushing out the tangles with pruned fingers, when I heard the click of the door again.
Footsteps strode through the foyer. Realizing how hungry I was now that lunch was imminent, I rose from the bath, water dripping off of my body as I reached for the towel and shook it out.
"Thank you for drawing the bath. If you have a brush, I'd like to run it through my hair. I think—gods!"
I screamed, wrapping the towel quickly around my body and staring, wide eyed and slack jawed, at the general standing in the threshold. He didn't move a muscle but the corner of his lip quirked up and his ice blue eyes sparked with something indecipherable.
"You should consider locking your door," he drawled easily, clearly entirely unperturbed by my nudity. I, however, did not feel the same.
My cheeks burned hot as I stepped out of the tub, sloshing water over the edge as I stormed toward him. His grin only grew at my approach, clearly amused.
"Maybe you should fucking knock," I snarled.
"Relax, little Corruption. You have nothing I haven't seen before."
"I'm sure," I scoffed, slamming my shoulder into his intentionally as I stormed past him and into the bedroom.
His brow raised, lips falling back into that practiced scowl, as he turned to watch me.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, having the audacity to sound offended.
"I'm sure you've seen more than your fair share of naked women," I replied. "Hopefully those times were all willingly consensual as, I assure you, this was not. Now, am I free to dress with some semblance of privacy or will you be standing there ogling me throughout that task as well?"
That damned smirk was back.
"Is ogling an option?" he drawled.
I crossed my arms, more to keep the towel from falling than anything else, but my irritation was obviously made clear by the movement all the same.
He sighed, turning his back to me as I reached for the crisp buttoned shirt and soft wide-legged pants my unnamed servant had left for me.
I really should ask her her name. I made a plan to do just that as I pulled off the towel and reached for some fresh undergarments lying on the bed.
"Does this unannounced visit have a purpose?" I asked, still annoyed. "Or are you just meandering down the hall, bursting into every woman's room to catch a glimpse of them in the bath? Should I warn Zya she's next?"
"Zya has nothing of interest to me."
I froze. What did that mean? That I did? Or that neither of us did? I hesitated, the shirt halfway over my head, and wondered why it even mattered. It didn't, I decided, pulling the shirt on the rest of the way and straightening it out.
"That's well enough," I told him. "I imagine bursting into her room would only result in your having a few daggers in your neck anyway."
He sighed impatiently as though I were the one wasting his time.
"Might I turn around now?" he asked, irritated. "It's disturbing speaking to an empty bathing chamber."
I rolled my eyes and quickly pulled on my pants.
"Fine," I snapped.
He turned, eyes flicking briefly over my attire, and frowned.
"That's what they left you?" he practically growled.
"What? Not suited to your taste?" I replied with a raised brow.
"You're Verdunn, Fallen. You possess the Darkness. You're the weapon we've been seeking for centuries. Rough pants and a plain shirt are an insult to your status."
I snorted.
"My status," I repeated. "You know, I starved for twenty years, spent my childhood doing odd jobs with Second Ringers just to help my mother put food on the table for two growing brothers and myself.
I worked every day I could, took handouts when I needed it, and learned to sew a stitch before I was ten.
Now, I'm expected to be affronted by a clean pair of pants and what appears to be a men's shirt?
While the same people I grew up suffering with suffer still?
Please, general, don't take offense on my behalf. It's beneath you."
Gryfon's eyes flashed the way they always did when I challenged him.
And, as always, I felt the same thrill burst through me for doing so.
This was our game, our own little dance, one which no one else knew the steps to.
He told me what to do, I disobeyed or outright belittled his orders.
He got angry. I found it concerningly attractive but never said so and held my ground anyway.
Then, ultimately, he respected me for my strength of will.
And here we were again. But this time, he broke the pattern.
"Maybe you deserve fine things, Adrian," he said softly. "Have you ever thought of it that way?"
I was more caught off guard by his tone than his words, though they were shocking as well.
The gruff, surly general had never spoken gently to me before, or to anyone, for that matter.
In fact, I'd been quite certain he was incapable of soft speech until now.
And what he'd said, that I deserved any of this, touched my heart in a way nothing had since Dante had uttered the same.
Since my partner had cut through the cold, sharp barrier I'd placed between us for my own protection and wormed his way inside with the right words and a gentle treatment far softer than anything I'd ever known.
And look where allowing that softness had gotten me.
My lip curled, expression hardening into a sneer. Never again, I'd vowed. I didn't want that softness, didn't want those tender kisses in the dead of night, those gentle touches in darkened corners. Not from anyone, but certainly not from the cold, hard general I'd been sure would never offer them.
"No," I growled, stomping toward him, rage burning in the hole inside me where a heart used to be.
"You don't say that to me. Not you. Never you.
They all look at me like I'm their savior and I have to deal with that from them.
That soaring hope, that fragile faith, that newfound confidence.
They treat me with kindness and charity.
They offer me things I don't deserve because they don't know any better. But you do. You. Do."
I was inches from the general now. I poked him, hard, in the chest, and his jaw clenched in response.
"I'm fucked up," I snapped. "I'm a godsdamned mess and you know it.
You knew it the moment you pulled me through that hole in the Underground.
And you keep reminding me because I need to hear it.
While everyone else is putting me on a pedestal, you're threatening me and growling at me and grounding me.
So don't go soft on me now. Because I don't know where I am or who I'm supposed to be so I need you to remind me. "
His jaw ticked and the door opened.
"Out," he spat, without even glancing over to see who'd entered.
"But—" my servant began to argue.
I turned to see her staring at us, wide eyed, platter of fruit and bread and cheese in one hand, gorgeous, flowing golden gown in the other.
"Leave them," Gryfon snapped, his tone going dangerously low.
She dropped the plate onto the table, tossed the dress over a chair, and fled, slamming the door slightly louder behind her in her haste to run away.
"You could have been nicer," I grumbled.
"I thought you didn't want me to," he growled back.
I crossed my arms but lowered my gaze, peering out toward a balcony I hadn't seen before to avoid looking at him.
I had said that. I couldn't deny it. And the rigidness of his posture, the cruel sneer on his lips where a smirk had been for the briefest moment, the frigid, icy eyes that had lost their sparkle, had gone still as stone, all told me he was taking his assignment quite seriously. The general had returned.
I almost took it back. If only to see that smirk again, if only to see the spark in his eyes, the amusement in his expression, anything but this cruel scorn.
But I'd gotten what I'd asked for, what I knew I needed.
I could feel the distance yawning between us again, exactly as I'd hoped.
I wouldn't let anyone get that close to me again, wouldn't let another man under my skin, wouldn't fall to soft words and softer touches.
Never again. Even if it felt strangely like wrenching my own heart out to do so.
"This is more like it," he muttered.
I glanced up to find he'd crossed the room and approached the gown my servant had left tossed over the chair.
"That's for the party," I said, frowning.
"It's this or the armor," he replied, lifting a corner and rubbing the silken fabric through his fingers.