And while it’s no modern luxury suite, the toilet is recognizably functional and spotlessly clean, carved from what appears to be white marble veined with silver. The elegant clawfoot tub is made of the same pristine stone, polished to a mirror shine and large enough for someone twice my size. Brass fixtures gleam like gold in the filtered light streaming through a tall, arched window that overlooks the frozen lake. After I finish relieving myself, I twist the ornate handles, and crystal-clearwater flows from the spigot. After a few minutes, it even runs warm, then blissfully hot.
Thank God for plumbing, even medieval-style. I genuinely had no idea what to expect in a monster’s castle.
I sink into the tub while the water is still running and do a quick rinse to clean myself. The water still shimmers faintly as it swirls down the drain, and my cheeks heat with the memory of last night.
Then I plug the drain and let the steamy water rise around me, finally taking a chance to examine my surroundings properly.
Like the bedroom, it has ancient stone walls throughout—massive blocks of granite fitted with medieval precision, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of castle life. The stones are pale gray with darker veins running through them like rivers, and occasional patches of moss cling to the mortar between blocks, a testament to the perpetual dampness. The only concessions to modernity are the plumbing and a thick Persian rug covering the cold flagstone floor, its once-vibrant patterns now faded to muted burgundy and gold.
But it’s absolutely frigid in here. Whoever built this ancient fortress clearly prioritized defense over comfort—there’s no insulation anywhere, just thick stone that holds cold like a tomb. My bathwater cools almost as fast as the hot flow can replenish it, steam rising in ghostly spirals that dissipate instantly in the arctic air. I sink deeper into the precious warmth, watching my breath form small clouds even inside the bathroom.
The warmth works magic on my deliciously aching muscles.
My brain keeps dancing around the reason for my soreness.
But finally, like something I’ve been avoiding looking at directly, my mind locks onto the truth—my muscles are tender because I used them extensively making love!
And not simple, careful intimacy like I had with Drew.
No, the monster and I shared intense, consuming, mind-altering passion.
I climaxed.
Maybe multiple times. I’m honestly not sure. Was it one incredible wave or several building together? How would someone who’s never experienced that intensity even know?
I wrap my arms around myself in the warm water and shiver with more than cold. Then, as I try to absorb heat into my tender muscles, I swear I hear a distant sound—like a cry echoing from somewhere deep in the castle.
I sit up straighter, water sloshing, eyes wide. Is someone else here besides me and?—
But as I strain to listen, there’s only silence. Just wind and my imagination.
I settle back into the warmth, my mind drifting to last night’s revelations. It couldn’t have been as earth-shattering as my memory insists.
But even thinking about how it felt when he opened my thighs and pressed inside, how my body stretched to accommodate his impressive?—
I let my hand drift down my hip toward the heat between my legs.
“How beautiful to find my consort comfortable and content.” The deep voice rumbles warmly from the doorway.
I gasp and sit up, exposing my heated skin to cold air before quickly sinking back into the water’s embrace.
“Privacy, please!” I call out, flustered. “I’m not dressed!”
But the monster simply leans one powerful forearm against the doorframe, his magnificent wings folded behind him, his massive frame blocking most of the morning light.
I can’t decide if he’s more imposing as this dark silhouette or in full sunlight, where I can see every detail of his leonine features and occasionally glowing chest.
“My naked consort is always a welcome sight,” he says, and there’s enough light to see his mouth curve into something between affection and hunger.
“Bath time is finished. Your introduction to castle life begins today.”
My brows draw together. “Introduction? What do you mean?”
But he approaches and reaches into my bathwater to pull the plug.
“Hey!” I protest.
“Much to show you,” he says gently. “Come, little consort.”
