“What? No. Of course not.” She rambles, curling a loose hair as her eyes scan over the bed, wondering how many women have woken up with him.
Stop caring! He forced you to his home. Who cares how many women he beds? All that matters is surviving him!
He takes her chin in his hand, his thumb slipping into her mouth. “No one sleeps in my bed.” He strokes her tongue before withdrawing and disappearing into the washroom.
She rubs her cheeks and takes an extra moment to compose herself.
The monster bed fills much of the space, far smaller than her Queen Chambers in Timber. He has an entire bookshelf that reaches the ceiling and two or three dressers cluttered with everything from empty mead bottles and dirty trousers to daggers.
Two seats grace the room–an old, rickety rocking chair and an oversized armchair upholstered in a hideous orange color stuffed in the corner by the bookshelf with a stack of books on the seat. Judging by the titles, the Salt Prince enjoys Endless Shore history, mead brewing, and carpentry.
“I will draw a bath for you. Remove your clothes.” He hollers from the washroom, where she hears running water.
I still cannot believe they have running water in Salt.
She peeks into the washroom, ignoring his order to undress. Regardless of having seen it before, her jaw drops. The Sapphire Palace and Scarwood are extravagant castles filled with luxury, but this is opulence at its finest.
The floor is polished blackwood, and the walls are a rich violet. Sigvid kneels beside a clawfoot tub large enough for two people. A polished stone counter with two sinks sets against the wall closest to her. She smiles, spotting jars filled with flower petals.
“I am quite capable of using the bathtub on my own. Besides, youseem to have many of my preferred soaps already.” She examines the full glass jars with her familiar lavender and rose scent.
Finding them is an odd coincidence. Are these the ones she sent to him in jest during the war? Surely not. He must have tossed everything.
“Are you still amazed at the washroom?” He must have noticed her obvious gaping. “Like I said, remove your clothes, and I will bathe you.” He grabs a fluffy towel from the cupboard and sets it on the counter.
“What do you mean you will bathe me?” She clutches her shirt to keep her hands from quivering.
He saw me naked, but that was to save my life. It should not matter if he tells me my body resembles livestock in the way Rendel would. We will be free of each other in two months.
“You heard me.” He tugs off her shirt, trailing his hands down her breasts and sides. Then he rips off her pants and massages her backside. “Get into the tub.” He swats her ass before settling on a stool beside the bathtub.
She is too desperate to feel clean and sinks into the water, moaning at the heat as she hugs her body.
“Why wash me? I promised you I wouldn’t leave until after the Solstice, and I mean it. Although I will not turn down a bath,” she mutters.
The more days like this, the harder it will be to justify leaving. His focused attention on her is intoxicating.
“Sit up. I am going to clean your back.”
She leans forward to wrap her arms around the front of the tub while the soft cloth massages her shoulders. “You didn’t answer me,” she presses.
Have I been wrong, and he has feelings for me? Or is there a fear I might escape again?
He lathers her back, pours soap into her hair, and massages Avina’s head with the tenderest of motions. All of her poking and prodding at his motive vanishes when his fingertips gently, albeit firmly, scrub soap into her scalp, carefully as if he is concerned he might tug her curls too hard.
The meticulous nature of his touch leaves her breathless and flushed. His actions overwhelm her, and she hiccups anemotional bubble in her throat. Despite herself, she sniffles, feeling a hot tear escape her eyes. Quickly, she dives under the water to conceal her emotions.
He needs to tend to his prize.
Avina repeats the reality. She should not allow an instant to savor this tenderness.
He softly pulls her above the surface, “It is not time to rinse yet. Lean back.” He pushes her against the tub and washes her chest.
“Stop, please!” She chokes as hot tears roll into the soapy water. “I cannot handle this. Please take mercy on me.”
He stops his actions with a furrowed brow. “Have I hurt you? I was rinsing off the dirt.”
She sinks into the water until only her head is visible above the surface. “Please, Sigvid, I beg you to let me go.”
