“Why is that?”
“Because you have an all-human crew,” I say. My voice has gone quiet, shy, even.
He kneels before my chair in seconds, bringing us to eye level. My breath catches when he leans forward to brush a few strands of hair from my eyes. “I thought it would be obvious by now… my preference is whatever you are. Mute or lame, angry or soul-splittingly happy, I would rather be with you.”
The same nervous weight in my stomach forms when his hands trail down the side of my face and brush against the sensitive skin on my neck. I blink as he leans forward. Have I really forgiven him enough to be doing this? My body and heart say yes, and my mind seems to have taken a holiday.
“Wait, I think it would be best if I bathed,” I say hastily.
He backs away and raises an eyebrow. “You are literally sitting in a self-filtering tank?”
“My hair,” I blurt out.
“Ah, yes. Perhaps I could help you?” he asks. His voice has dropped an octave, and his brown eyes are dark with desire.
My throat goes dry.
“With your hair,” he clarifies.
“I can wash my own hair. I am easily three times your age, boy.” My voice is harsher than I intend, and I flinch.
Despite how sharp my words are, he smiles. “That’s my Helena,” he whispers huskily. His hand trails over my fingers. “Then I will stay here.”
Why do his touches feel like licks of flame against my bare skin?
“Thank you,” I say dumbly and roll away. I spy the king-sized bed, one that I won’t be using. The room is expertly decorated, just like everywhere else in the King’s Tower. The high ceilings have lovely, antique light fixtures, but the floor is adorned with lush rugs with colorful patterns. The expensive wood furniture is a gorgeous, rich brown color. They remind me of Erik’s eyes.
The fluffy white bed dressings invite me for a restful sleep, which I know would turn my scales into a dry, scratchy mess. I wonder where I will spend the night and whether or not Erik will be there as I continue my journey to the bathroom.
The black and gold tile makes my heart stop. A tub large enough to comfortably house four people with wings is in the corner of the vast room. I roll over and spy the brass water fixtures and the temperature gauge on the side of the tub to control the water and temperature levels.
My eyes widen. King Aidoneus certainly knows about luxury.
I grasp onto the lip of the enormous tub and start to lift myself in. I certainly can wait while the water runs…
Or I can ask Erik to help me.
My body becomes a rolling contradiction. A burning fire of a thousand suns fills me, yet my hands are cold and clammy.
Am I ready tobewith Erik? My inexperience is undoubtedly something he doesn’t share… or is it? How does one talk of such things without bursting into flames?
I growl and tug at my hair. Then I remember that he possibly might hear me from the other room. I look at the fitted tank top I stole and then gaze at myself in the gilded mirror—another priceless antique. My face is flushed, and my hair is wild. My hands descend from my hair and then press into my burning cheeks. The coolness from my palms feels good.
I am a gods-damned Ice Mer. Since when do I find such pleasure in the heat?
My mind is screaming and pulling me in a dozen directions. I want to run away from here, and I want to pull Erik inside this room with me. Without allowing myself any more time to be a coward, I roll out of the tiled room and into the living room.
The TV is still on, and Erik is sitting on the couch, looking deflated. When he notices me, he smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes, making me feel even worse. I watch him try to put on an air of casualness, but I can see the ghost of sadness behind his eyes.
“So…” I start. What the hell am I supposed to say? Come fill the bathtub? Do I want him to fill the bathtub? No, I want to taste his mouth and feel his calloused hands scrape across my skin.
“What’s up?” he says lightly, interrupting my thoughts.
“Can… you help me?” I settle on the question, pointedly ignoring the image of him doing much more than that as it skirts through my thoughts.
He’s on his feet in a flash. “With pleasure.” Erik rests his hands on the back of my chair. “May I?”
I swallow. My stomach feels like a hundred tiny fish have taken up residence within it. “Yes.”