I try to speak, but nothing comes out but a wet croak.
“Get up and take off the nightdress.”
My eyes automatically look down. My nightdress … oh gods, the white fabric has turned translucent, plastered to my skin, hiding absolutely nothing. I can see my body through it. The outline of my nipples, the darker shadow between my thighs.
I wrap my arms around myself. “No!”
His sigh is irritated. “It’s in the way.”
I try to get up. His hand catches my shoulder, fingers digging in. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub.
Where did it come from? Where did the water come from?
“Take it off. Or I’ll do it for you.” He reaches for the top button.
I grab his wrist, trying to pry his fingers loose.
“Why—” I’m still gasping for breath. “Why are you?—”
“Because you stink.” He leans closer. “I’m tired of smelling you every time I walk into my own quarters.”
“Let me—” I cough again. “Let me do it.”
“No. None of my people were given any privacy in the cages. Why should you?” He releases my shoulder. “Take off the nightdress. I won’t ask again.”
No man has ever seen me naked. Not once. And now he wants me to strip in front of him? But what is the alternative?
My hands are shaking as I grip the hem. The wet fabric clings, fighting me as I peel it up over my hips, my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut as it passes my breasts. As if that will make it feel better. As if not seeing him watch will erase the fact that he’s looking.
I drag it over my head and drop it over the side of the tub. Then I’m naked. Completely and utterly naked in front of a man for the first time in my life, and I want to die. I want to sink under the water and never come up again.
I wrap my arms around myself, hunching forward, trying to cover my breasts and between my thighs at the same time. It’s impossible. There’s too much of me exposed and not enough ways to hide it.
He doesn’t say anything. He just looks,slowlyand thoroughly, almost as though he’s taking inventory. His gaze moves over my shoulders, my arms crossed over my chest, down to where the water laps at my hips.
“Arms up.”
“What?” The word comes out strangled.
“Arms up. Away from your body.” When I don’t move, his voice sharpens. “Now. You’re not hiding anything I haven’t seen before.”
“Please—” I’ve never begged like this. “Please don’t make me?—”
“Arms. Up.”
I raise my arms. The cold air hits my wet skin and I shiver violently. I want to vomit.
His gaze lowers to my breasts, then down to my stomach.
“You’re thinner than when I took you. We’ll have to fix that.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t.” He stands. “But you’re no use to me dead.”
He reaches out a hand, and I scramble backward, water sloshing over the sides. “Don’t!”
“Relax. I’m not going to wash you.” His lips curve. “As much as you might enjoy it.”
