ISLA
Itrail my gaze down the pillar of Konstantin’s neck that is ropy with strained tendons. Although he’s bare chested, he’s kept his braies on. They’re entirely translucent, revealing a thick trail of hair as dark as the twin strokes accentuating his stare.
“Won’t your underwear get ruined?” I enquire.
“Better it than you.”
My heart misses a beat but then mends its rhythm. “I’m not some delicate ice sculpture, Vizosh.”
His throat works over a swallow as he peers at me through the wisps of steam, the shadows beneath his eyes moving, encroaching over more of his face.
I’m more convinced than ever that something must’ve happened while I was gone…
Something which my father hasn’t shared with me during briefings, which means it’s a private something.
“Did you…did you sleep with someone else? Is that—is that—” My face feels hot, as though Konstantin’s opened the tap and is holding my head under the scorching flow.
“Of course not!” His bright anger sends the shadows scurrying.
His palms climb the outer edge of my legs and then he’s hinging at the waist and snaking an arm around my waist to pluck me from my side of the bath and settle me—my back to his front—between his spread thighs.
I rest my head in the crook of his neck.
“Why in the world would I destroy the single best thing that’s happened to me?” His lips graze my temple, while his hands graze my rib cage.
“…but something’s tormenting you.”
His white hair floats on the surface of the bath, twining with my black strands and the velvety petals. “Thoughts.”
I crane my neck. “What thoughts?”
His charmed trinket presses against my spine as he breathes in and out…in and out. I reach up to dance my fingers along his jaw, then higher, along his ear.
When I reach its tip, his big body jerks, and his sex begins to harden and swell underneath my tail bone. “Isla…”
“Yes?” I caress again.
Again he shudders, but then he clasps my wrist and drags my hand down.
I sit up. “Please tell me what’s going on? You’re scaring me. I thought you were glad to see me.”
“I amfuckingglad to see you.” His tone is as cutting as the line of his jaw. “I’m muchtoofucking glad,” he mutters while snaking a hand between us to readjust himself. “I’ve been fucking miserable since you left.”
“Then why the underworld are you half-dressed at the moment.”
One of his eyebrows quirks. “Half-dressed?”
“You know what I mean,” I mutter.
He snorts, and although he still stews, his posture eases as he slumps against the curved backrest.
“Was keeping your cock out of me part of my mother’s bargain?”
The corners of his mouth tuck in and just the slightest bit up. “That would’ve been an awkward clause, but to answer your question, no. Unless I harm you with it, in which case, her magic might keep it away from you.”
“Don’t dust it in obsidian powder, and we should be fine.”
“Isla, Isla, Isla… What am I going to do with you?”
