My toes pressed into the uneven tile. I studied the pattern after shutting the door. Thousands of tiny pieces of… glass? Curious, I bent down, my fingers stroking the tile. They formed a pattern, though I couldn’t quite make out the design from the doorway.
My clothing fell to the floor in a heap as I traced the surface of the water. They must have ordered it drawn shortly after we arrived. I took a step into the tub. Warmth engulfed me, and an involuntary shudder eased the tension from my shoulders.
Not as good as Raphael’s massage…I clamped down on the thought. I had no business imagining his hands on my shoulders, unknotting the tension that had built after sharing a carriage with him earlier.
I ran a palm over my face, and then, unconsciously, slid it to my breast, remembering the way my body had tensed in Raphael’s embrace, like a tight cord that wanted to snap. My hand grazed lower, past my chest to my stomach, nearing the ache that taunted me.
I swallowed and tugged my hand away. There weren’t any small cloths for cleaning, but there was a small selection of stoppered oils next to a… rock? It was bright yellow, soft and porous, with various sized holes set through it. Some kind of foam.
I uncorked one of the vials and gave a cautious sniff. After the way other scents made my nose burn, I’d used simple lye.
Lavender. It was faint, barely there—making it tolerable, as a vampire.
A few drops on the soft rock were enough to make it fill with suds after I gave it an exploratory squeeze. I slid it over my forearm, the tickle of the foam too enticing.
Let me know if you’d like to make any more deals…Deals that would be sealed with kisses. Hungry, wanting. I wouldn’t make another deal, but it was too easy to imagine.
I scrubbed harder, as if I could scratch away the memory of his hands on my body, the way he’d felt under me as I fed on him, the taste of his blood heating my own. My core clenched, distracted by the memory.
He was just on the other side of the door. All that stood between him and my naked body was a flimsy piece of wood. My scrubbing stilled as I eyed the door.
What if he came inside the room? Ripped the door off, slid into the tub behind me? It shouldn’t have been so easy to picture, but these kinds of fantasies were increasingly hard to dispel.
Even though they could never be.
I could never have a relationship with the vampire who was sworn to kill me.
I dunked my head below the water, trying to wash away thoughts of him the way I rinsed off the suds. Why was I so aware of him? Why alwayshim? I’d noticed men and women before, on occasion, especially since leaving Greymere. But their presence was only ever something I was aware of in the moment.
Raphael… Raphael lingered.
I resurfaced, a reflexive gasp on my lips even though I no longer needed to fear drowning. The cotton of the towels was even softer than those found in Damerel. Pure decadence. I scrubbed my face, wiping away the remnants of the bath, and hopefully the thoughts it had stirred.
The nightgown, however, was a challenge. It had been nothing to let Amalthea coax me into silky nightclothes when I’d been confident no one would ever see them with me sleeping under a bed. Especially since I didn’t tend to wear them—most nights, I slept in training clothes, ready to run at a moment’s notice.
I couldn’t do that here. The inn had been one thing—it hadn’t been worth the fuss to unpack. But now I’d be unpacked and sharing chambers with Raphael, with no excuse to not wear the gown.
I slipped the purple silk over my shoulders and let it fall. The fabric came only to mid-thigh, even on my short legs. The dress was held up with two slim strips, the front cut low, made only slightly decent by the lace on top. My amulet, the one from my father, barely grazed it. I’d been unwilling to leave it in Damerel, or even in my trunks. Normally I kept it in Contessa’s saddlebag, but for today I’d wanted it on my neck.
I pulled the dressing gown on next, tying it tightly at the side. It clung to my frame, but at least it had sleeves and another few inches, reaching just above my knees.
Steam followed me as I opened the door. Raphael was splayed on the bed, his gaze flicking over me.
The dressing gown really didn’t feel like enough. Not when he looked at me like that.
I cleared my throat. “You can use the bathing chambers now, if you like.”
Raphael’s gaze held me for another moment as he wordlessly stood and moved past me.
I waited for the telltale click of the door shutting behind me, but it didn’t come. Instead, with my vampire senses, I heard the sound of fabric rustling as it fell to the floor, the splash as he stepped into the water that I’d bathed in moments ago.
Distraction. I needed a distraction. I looked at the bed again. Its base was solid wood, no space to slip into underneath. Therewas a large mirror set across from it, so I stared at my reflection and twisted my hair into two braids.
It was still hard to look at my reflection. To confront the fact I’d been so completely changed. On the road, laughing with the others, sometimes I could almost forget.
Red eyes. White hair. Skin somehow even paler than it had been before.
It was a funny thing. I had never been overly familiar with my appearance. When I was a child, my mother had been the one spending time in front of the vanity, forever changing her appearance with disguise magic to match the trends. One week, it might be about pointy chins and amber hair. The next, full lips, long lashes, and soft pink strands sheared short. As an extension of her, my appearance also changed. It wouldn’t do for her heir to look so plain, so I’d had amber hair, pink hair, blue hair, whatever she deemed matching the trend. In Greymere, there was no disguise magic, but there weren’t mirrors either.
