Mabon licks his lips. His gaze slowly, very slowly, tracks its way up my body. Eventually, he finds my face.
He sighs happily. “You are far too pretty to punish. But if you try to escape again, I will seal your eyes shut with hot wax. I like your lovely eyes, but I don’t need to see them all the time.” He stops and cocks his head to the side. “Or maybe I will hammer a nail into your eardrums. That won’t ruin your looks.” He pausesagain and taps a finger against his pursed lips. “But then you won’t be able to hear your orders. So eyes it is!”
He claps his hands and seems very pleased with his decision. I can’t see any mockery in his expression. There is no idleness to his threats. He means every word.
I swallow dryly. Fucking hell.
“You may wash me now,” he says brightly.
Then he walks away. Mutely I follow. His threats ringing in my, for now, intact ears.
Chapter six
Mabon is already sitting in the sunken bath by the time I reach the bathroom. I hover by the doorway for a moment, while holding my own leash like a crazy person.
“Get in,” orders Mabon.
The bath is big enough for twelve people at least, so fine, whatever. I’ll join the bossy prince in his bath.
As I wade into the hot water, he throws a washcloth at me. It nearly hits me in the face, but I just about manage to catch it in time.
He doesn’t notice. He just leans back against the wall of the tub and tilts his head back, showing off the long lines of his slender throat.
The water is lapping at his chest. Teasing against his pierced nipples. The silver chains dip down into the water and out of sight. It is very hard not to think about where they go. Very hard. Impossible in fact.
I hate that I have such a perfect image of it burned into my mind. I can picture the rest of him in intricate detail.
“You are supposed to be washing me,” he says without opening his eyes.
His accent is exquisite. Exotic. Enticing. I swear it dances over my skin and caresses it.
He lifts his head up and looks at me. I’m standing here, waist high in the bath, washcloth in one hand, my leash in my other. Just staring at him.
My cheeks heat and I hastily stumble forward. I’ve never washed someone before, but it can’t be hard. Surely it is simply a matter of running this cloth all over him?
I drop the leash into the water. The weight of it tugging on my bejewelled collar is… is something I do not want to think about right now.
Mabon closes his eyes again and tilts his head back. He is sitting and I’m standing. I’m towering over him. He doesn’t look the least bit concerned.
I take a deep, fortifying breath. I’m biding my time. I’m being clever. I’m gathering information. That means I have to do this. No matter how humiliating it is. Because that’s what I’m worried about. Humiliation. I’m definitely not worried about how much I’m going to like it.
I’m not into men. Not even extraordinarily beautiful ones. And I’m absolutely not into captors. Or invading overlords. So it’s all fine. Nothing to worry about.
Grimacing, I dip the washcloth into the gently steaming water. Then, I hold my breath and place the dripping wet cloth onto his shoulder. Water streams over his slightly shimmering skin. It pools in his clavicle. A droplet beads on his nipple.
I force a swallow down my dry throat.
I dip the washcloth again and slop it messily onto his other shoulder.
“You are terrible at this,” he says without looking at me or even opening his eyes.
Indignation coils low and heavy in my guts. Of course I’m terrible at this. I’ve never been ordered to wash someone before. This sudden burning desire to show him that I can be the best personal washer who has ever existed, is stupid. I have nothing to prove. I don’t need his approval.
I clench my jaw and run the wet cloth slowly and carefully over his glistening chest. I slide between his nipples, skirt under the edge of his left one, delicately jangling the silver chain as I go. Then I repeat, this time going around his right nipple.
He doesn’t move. He barely seems to be breathing. But his nipples harden. They darken from lavender to violet.
I wonder what they taste like? What would the silver rings feel like on my tongue? Would he gasp if I flicked them, or tugged on them with my teeth? Do his nipples get harder than this? More swollen? Are they as sensitive as they look?
