Acacius licked his lips, shaking his head. The need that welled up in him was manic, like an itch that he couldn’t contain. They’d fucked less than an hour ago, and he craved her all over again, as if their fusing would never be enough. If she weren’t a goddess, he would’ve believed her to be a witch, ensnaring him in an enchantment.
“You take me by surprise when you answer so truthfully,” he confessed, his body flushing under her fierce gaze.
She cocked an eyebrow, a small grin pinching her cheeks. “Would you rather I lie?”
Clearly, she was enjoying this.
He removed his underwear, fully aware of her casual drift back down to his firm length, and sent her a playful smile before turning toward the spring. “Never.”
17
COUNT THE MOTHS
Marina
Marina enjoyedthe view of Acacius’s naked body as he stepped into the hot spring. The crimson water obscured him from the waist down, the surface sloshing around his bare hips.
His skin was a silhouette of beautifully sculpted muscles and sharp angles. It made her painfully aware of how little she paid attention to him during their sexual encounters, too focused on her own climax to care.
However, after their last encounter, she had the bizarre need to nibble on the thick muscle that rippled around his shoulder blade as he lifted his arm, moving to push the loose hairs out of his face.
He looked back at her, as if he could feel her staring. Beads of water dripped over his lips.
Her cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat. “I enjoy baths, but not ones that appear as if another decomposed in them.”
He cupped some of the cherry liquid in his hand and let it drain between his fingers. “See, the consistency is just like water. It has no viscosity.”
It wasn’t dense the way blood was, but fully transparent. She could see the bony dips of his wrist as the water washed over them.
Her eyes cut up to his as he watched her intently. White moths fluttered in between them, encircling her in a gentle dance. She could feel the light breeze of their wings against her hair, the skin of her arms, and on the exposed area of her shoulders where her sleeves hung down. They came and went through the arched windows.
She let out a soft breath.
Despite the unease twisting in her gut, she was here to distract Acacius and fish for more information. Leaving without gain was not an option, but sitting on the fringe of the spring like a frightened child was even less of one.
Marina slid off her heels and approached the steps.
Fear held her by the throat as she stared down at the vermillion pool, steam steadily rising from its surface.
Don’t be a coward.
It’s only water, as he said.
Her heartbeat sprinted in her chest, and she pressed her tongue against the backs of her teeth, forcing herself to inch closer and closer to the edge. The only thing left to do was to step down.
Acacius said nothing. He stood across the heated basin, continuing to watch her with a durable patience. She envied his courage, something she longed to possess herself.
“Rina.” The water sloshed around him as he glided toward her.
A gnarl formed in her stomach.
The sight of his pinched brow punctured her pride. She did not want his pity. More than that, it unsettled her, knowing he could see her delicate unraveling. After all, this is what he wanted—to learn her weaknesses and use them in his vengeful stratagem. She would not give him more leverage than he already had over her.
She submerged her feet. Gooseflesh sprouted like buds across her skin. The inside of her chest itched.
She swallowed to prove to herself that her throat hadn’t closed up as she held her eyes on Acacius, refusing to fixate on the ruby waves at his waist, those currently swallowing her ankles. He maintained his distance but continued to gently watch her, ever ready if she needed him.
Moths trickled above her. One landed in her hair, and another brushed over her nape. She held on to the physical sensation of their tiny legs tickling her skin.
