And though I couldn’t care less what he thinks of my body, I do notice the absence of the chin dip and the zero-in-on-my-breasts moment this time.
Whatever.I don’t need or want that kind of attention from him anyway.
“You will face me.” He walks over to his red nightmare of a throne and takes a seat. “Ensure you can see me when you position yourself in the bath.”
Okay. So he wants to watch me climb into the ice-cold water and freeze my bottom—and probably at least two toes—off, while he lounges on his evil throne.
Talk about sadistic.
But I’ve got this.
I scurry over to the tub and take a deep breath, reminding myself of the importance of keeping my fingers above the water. My green thumb won’t be of any use to me tomorrow if it falls off because I froze in this tub for double the time.
But to mygreat shock, when I swing my leg over the tub’s lip, I find it warm.
Hot, even. A welcome balm for my tired muscles and hands.
With a luxurious sigh, I sit and sink down into the water as far as I can without drowning.
And though I position myself facing his throne, I can’t see the rigid king sitting upon it after I close my eyes and let myself relax for the first time since I woke up.
I might’ve fallen asleep there, lulled by the muscle-melting heat, if not for the unexpected movements—and the feel of cloth and soap moving over my skin.
I open my eyes to find shadow hands cleaning me in efficient, clinical strokes.
“Your magic is so much more everyday useful than mine,” I murmur, letting out a little chuckle.
He doesn’t chuckle. Doesn’t respond. Just watches with that same strangely dimmed stare as the shadows wash me.
“So…” I guess now is as good a time as any to ask. “I’m assuming this means my punishment comesafterthe bath?”
“You assume right.”
Just those three words. And nothing more.
There weren’t a whole lot of conversational topics to move to from there. So I sit back and let the shadows do their thing.
With my eyes open this time, though.
The Stone Fae King is giving me a new version of the creeps—the strongest yet. And that’s saying a lot considering he explained how he was going to slit my throat with his special ruthless-moon-god blade the first time we met.
This bath is so much better than last night’s, yet somehow colder than when I lodged myself against his hardened length.
Is he aroused now?
I hate that the thought even enters my head.
And that it’s quickly followed by another question I shouldn’t be asking myself:Does he feel anything for me at all?
“It is time to exit the water,” he announces.
One moment the shadow hands are washing me in the bath, and the next they’re hovering just above the edge with a waiting taarhorn towel.
“I have so many questions about your shadow magic.” I rise, almost too curious to feel self-conscious about standing naked in front of a fully clothed male. Again.
Still, as the shadow hands dry me with cold efficiency, I can’t help but ask, “Are you controlling the shadows with your mind? Or are they, like... an extension of you?”
“They are under my control,” he replies from his throne. “The same as your breadbasket lesser kingdom. My subjects. Andyou.”
