It was so different when she was asleep, under the care of Meg. Now it is purely her and I can’t get enough of it. My lips graze her soft skin, and I take a nibble, unable to help myself.
Hazel releases a cry, but then the air is filled with another perfume. One which courses through me like ale. One which has my todger swelling instantly.
I duck through the doorway to the quarters Meg has assigned me with some ill grace. They are clean, filled with fragrant straw and there is plenty of light from the windows which open out over the green plains below the castle itself.
“This is ours, my pretty mare,” I murmur in her ear.
This time I do let her to her feet, to feel the touch of her body against mine, and I am not disappointed. She is soft everywhere.
Hazel’s hand lingers on my chest. She looks up at me, her eyes wide. Her chest presses against my abdomen, the pillow of her breasts moving in time to her breathing.
“We are alone?”
“We are alone.”
Meg said she should rest, but I cannot help myself, dipping my head to press my mouth against hers, to be sure our mouth mating before was real, to delight in the way our tongues tangle and how she slides her hand around my waist, as I put mine in her hair.
I never want to let her go. The thing in my pants has taken on a life of its own, and it wants to be…insideher.”
“I need…” she murmurs over my lips.
“Whatever you need, I will get it for you. Tell me to slay the Shellycoat, and you will have his tail as your stole.”
“Wait. What?” Hazel pulls back from me, staring into my eyes. “I was going to say, I need a wash. I feel like I’ve just spent a week in a coma on a straw bed,” she says. “I wasn’t specifically thinking about murder and clothing.”
Which is a shame because I was.
“Meg has thought of everything.” I bare my teeth in a big grin. “We have our own bath.”
“We do?” Hazel squeaks, and I am certain I am about to release all of my spend in my trousers.
“I have used it,” I admit. “But I trust you will still want to.”
I usher her to the far end of our quarters where there is another door that opens into the bathing room. Hazel looks up at me.
“I was hoping you might want to use it with me, if it’s large enough.”
My trousers are in serious danger.
“It may be possible.” I open the door and Hazel peers in before releasing a gasp.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell again?” I have my arms around her before I can blink.
“No, I’m…I’m as well as I can be,” Hazel says. “It’s this place…it’s incredible.”
I take another look at the bathing room. I admit the patterned tiles on one wall are a little over the top, and the sunken bath fed by the hot spring which wells up from deep below the Yeavering is somewhat smaller than the one I have back at the Shadow Keep, but it will, at least, do for now.
“Hardly,” I scoff.
“Warden, I was washing in a lukewarm tin bath back at the Dark Gibbet.” Hazel glares at me. “This is luxury.”
She pulls away from me and lifts the shift she is wearing over her head. Underneath, she has a pair of half-length white trousers in an almost see-through cotton. I already knew this, despite Meg slapping me away when she performed personal care on my mate previously.
I was not allowed to touch.
I want to touch now.
Hazel unknots the white trousers, and they fall to the floor, exposing her withers. Her skin is creamy, pink in places, dotted in others with little flecks of brown.
