Seren lifts his chin. “I memorized hot water, cold water, and one that smells nice. Pretty good considering that I’d never seen a magic bathtub before.”
Nevander gets that tilt to his lips that says he’s about to be shameless. “I know you’ve just been using that one. Lilac and vanilla. It smells good on you.”
Gods. Spirits. At least Seren can swear in his head. “The others might smell good, too.”
“We can find out.” Nevander inhales, like he’s savoring the bare, wet skin of Seren’s hand. “May I bathe you?”
Seren’s oddly disappointed by the question. He almost shoves the feeling down. But tonight isn’t about controlling himself. “You could just say so.”
Nevander’s assessment sharpens. “Would you enjoy that?”
“Yes,” Seren admits. “I like not being able to swear properly. Because I have to do what you say.”
“Thank you for sharing that,” Nevander says, all possessive consideration. “Now, sit and let me bathe you, my prince.”
Seren whimpers, his body suddenly heavier on the marble step. The water laps at his waist.
He would have grabbed the plain bar soap and scrubbing brush. But Nevander touches a rune, and glistening oil spills into his hand. Some drips through his fingers into the water.Honey and sandalwood blend with the steam. The ends of Nevander’s hair swirl across the surface. His thighs move, obscured by rippling water.
Nevander takes Seren’s left hand again. Each caress is purposeful, working the honeyed oil into every crevice of Seren’s knuckles. Nevander has held his hands before, plenty of times, but this feels different. Nevander is unarmored, close, focused entirely on taking Seren apart.
By the time Nevander reaches his forearm, Seren is dizzy from the steam.
“Breathe,” Nevander says.
Seren gasps, realizing he’d been holding his breath. “That’s a tough order.”
“I believe in your ability,” Nevander says, smoothing out muscles Seren hadn’t known were tense. He moves to Seren’s right arm, his attention just as careful.
Seren relaxes despite the distracting heat. Like he’s spent a day copying manuscripts and finally sets down the pen. The muscles remain tense at first, poised to resume their effort. Then they slowly unknot.
Not just from the slow massage. Seren relaxes into Nevander’s care and control. Nevander said to sit. That’s all Seren has to do.
The scented oil washes away, taking the dirt with it. Nevander reaches Seren’s shoulder and pauses. His gaze lowers to the water’s rippling veil.
“Sit on the edge, and brace yourself,” Nevander says, and barely gives Seren space to obey.
Skin slides against skin, and Seren’s skipped heartbeat reflects in Nevander’s blue-green eyes. Seren alights on the broad marble edge of the tub, exquisitely aware of his ownexposure. A vestige of modesty tempts him to cross his legs. Instead, he lets his thighs fall open, only his feet and ankles concealed beneath the water.
“Thank you,” Nevander says, and reaches for another handful of oil. Steam glitters across his cheekbones as he draws nearer. Close enough to touch any part of Seren he wants.
He lifts Seren’s left foot, supporting it above the water as he resumes the cleansing. “It took me three trips to figure out who you were.”
“What?” Seren asks stupidly. His thoughts scatter with each sweep of Nevander’s fingers. His ankle shouldn’t be this sensitive. His cock shouldn’t leak so eagerly when Nevander hasn’t even touched it.
“I thought I would reach Wymond, look for a boy of Tansy’s age and coloring, and find you easily.” Nevander takes extra care behind Seren’s knee. “There were too many people.”
Seren laughs. “In Wymond?”
“At least six youths of the right general appearance,” Nevander says. “Humans have more children than we do.”
Seren still isn’t used to thinking of humans as ‘them’ instead of ‘us.’ He can tell the upriver families from the downriver families, the locals from the passing-through. But the differences must be slight to someone accustomed to horns and wings and every hue of hair imaginable.
“How did you recognize me?” Seren asks, faltering as Nevander lingers on his inner thigh. Scant inches from his flushed, needy cock.
Nevander moves to Seren’s right leg, starting over from his hypersensitive ankle. “I noticed you on my second visit, but I wasn’t sure until my third. It was early autumn, theleaves redder than I’ve ever seen. You flinched as you entered the general store.”
Seren can practically feel a wicker basket hanging from his elbow. The memories are comfortably distant compared to Nevander’s touch. “There was a horseshoe over the door. How did I never realize?”
