My heartbeat returns to normal as she starts to wash her body. There's a hot throb below my belt as she rakes her fingers through her hair, breasts barely peeking out of the water.
Her beautiful, curly, deep brown hair. It was unbound before, but seeing it shine in the faint light does something to me. One day… she’ll let me braid it.
I turn away from the window, feeling guilty for catching her in such a vulnerable moment. I should never have watched her like that, no matter how concerned for her wellbeing. It’s time to go back to my own room.
But despite how much I try to distract myself, her image remains etched in my mind. The bruises on her back, the way her hair lay soaked and heavy across her chest. Something inside of me stirs at the thought of it all.
Yearning.
I try to resist it, to push it down, to tell myself that it's wrong. But the memory of her body in the tub lingers, haunting me. And before I know it, I return to the window.
My heart stops beating. She's under the water. I can barely see her, save for the shadow in the crystal lights. A few seconds pass, and I expect her to come up for air.
A few more seconds pass, and there is no movement. The only thought in my mind is how long I spent, waiting for a mate, and she would rather die than be with me. An onset of temporary insanity has me rushing back through my tunnel, out of my room, and to her door. I grab the handle and push it open, finding myself in the dim, steamy room. Panic grips me; what if she's drowned? What if I'm too late?
But then, just as I'm about to reach into the water, she emerges from the depths of the basin. Water cascades down her body, her hair slicked back against her scalp, and I'm struck by the urge to touch her. To run my hands over her skin, to pull her into my arms, to claim her as mine.
I can finally breathe again.
She is terrified, clutching at the sides of the tub. Her arms and legs scrunch up to cover her body. Then she decides better and launches a shampoo bottle at my head, catching me straight in the eye.
I stagger back in surprise, holding my hand against the injury. I can't help but let out a frustrated growl. The truth is that I don't deserve much less. She doesn't know I was spying on her.
"I didn’t call for you" she says, her voice low and strained.
“I just—”
"No. You told me I wouldn’t be a comfort woman, so stop reaching for me at every chance you get."
"You are a danger to yourself. I came to ensure you didn't try to escape," I growl, still looking away. The lie is bitter, but sweeter than her anger. Vann hadn't been lying about her strength.
"We just made a deal,” she says.
“Yes, and you immediately tried to run out the door.”
“Noted. Well, I wasn't trying to escape," she hisses.
“Just bathe?” The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them, bright with accusation.
She looks back at me, defiant and unafraid. She’s so much smaller than me. Little compared to the blood-sucking creature that nearly killed her, yet it does not seem to matter for her sense of self-preservation. She would kill me. I do not understand why the Fuegorra chose a mate with so much fire when all I long for is softness, but I am proud of this display.
Suddenly, her expression changes. The fierceness falls away in favor of embarrassment. “Are you asking me if I was trying to...”
I purse my lips. “You were under the water for a while.”
“Why would I off myself when my brother’s rescue is dependent on our union?”
I can hear the hurt in her voice. So full of surprises. My heart twists in my chest, guilt suffocating me. It’s almost as if my question from before is being answered—relentless care for the people we are in charge of. She will be a good queen. When she is ready to rise to power.
“I will leave now," I murmur.
She sneers, disturbing the water around her, and says, "That would be wise."
I do not stay to look at the ripples caressing her brown skin, I leave the room once more. As soon as I am on the other side of the door, I realize that she was not as mad as she should have been. I wonder if someone has invaded her privacy before and think of the First Prince.
My thoughts swirl as I make my way back to my own room. Was I any better than the First Prince? Both of us had been guilty of taking advantage of her vulnerability, of trespassing on her solitude.
I sink onto my bed, still lost in thought. The image of her bruised back flashes before my eyes, and a spike of protectiveness sears my chest. I want to shield her from the world, from all harm, from anyone who might hurt her.