“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he says distantly, holding his hand in the spray to check the temperature. He motions for me to step into the warm waters.
It feels amazing, and I let my sore muscles relax. Raf’ere steps in behind me and grabs the soap, lathering his hands together.
“I wish I could keep you painted in my cum forever,” he breathes, rubbing his hand over the mess he made of me.
“But can’t your people smell that kind of thing? I don’t want to be known as the human who smells like cum.” I groan, wishing the fi’len had somewhat less acute senses.
“That’s the whole point. Everyone would know you'remine.” His eyes get a dreamy, far-off look.
The emphasis he places on the last word sends a thrill through me. How the duke can make me horny with just his voice is ridiculous.
I can feel his fingers drifting lower, and I know I need to put the kibosh on his intentions quickly.
“Raf’ere, we should get the medics to check me over. The longer we wait, the more anxious you’re making poor Jens’i.” I try to be the voice of reason in this bathroom. I’ve never seen the butler in the state he was in just now.
He groans, turning my front to face the jets that rinse me of suds.
“Do you think they can do whatever they need to do without touching you?”
I can’t tell if he’s asking seriously or not.
“You’ll survive,” I tell him before bringing his hand up to kiss it.
CHAPTER33
?I MISS EVERYTHING?
?RAF’ERE
The medics are thankfully brief.They run a field scanner right in my chambers and have their data pads collect the information needed.
Marta is bruised, her lungs and throat will need time to fully recover, but with a few days’ rest she should be as good as new. They did make mention of her vitamin D levels being dangerously low, and provided us with a supplement.
“Yeah Raf’ere, more sunshine less locking in closets,” she jibes at me with an eyebrow waggle
I don’t see the humor. In my anxiety, my blind fear to keep her safe, I’ve managed to cause her some level of harm.
I must do better by her, I have to.
When everyone leaves, and we’re finally alone again, things grow strangely quiet between us. I’m positioned at my desk, leaned back in the chair, observing my mate.
She sits in the arm chair, wearing one of my oversized shirts. Pulling her knees up against her chest, her head is lolls to the side. She stares out the open bedroom door into the ballroom.
“Marta?”
Oh god, the door is open. Marta is staring right at the biofilm ceiling.
I jump to my feet and rush to slam the door.
“What?” she asks, as if snapping from some daydream when the door crashes against its frame.
“The ocean…” I cock my head.She didn’t notice?
“Oh, yeah, weird,” is all I get from her with some far-off look. Could she still be in shock? She stands slowly, her body obviously achy, and walks toward me.
She puts her hand over my own, which is still on the doorknob, and turns. The door creaks on it’s hinges, and I let her look around my arm as it opens.
She frowns and stares up at the expanse of water that floats directly over the ballroom. Unlike previously, she doesn’t freeze in fear.
