Page 45 of Wolfkissed
“Improper?” he inquires.
“Yes. Exactly.”
His pale lashes lower. “But not dangerous?”
“Gods.” Grabbing the handle of the leash, I give a hard tug, and he grunts, fingers going to his throat. “Come on. If you wanted to eat me, you’d have done so already.”
“Eating you is my top priority,” he informs me, his smirk returning. “I just haven’t had time on my hands lately. On account of them being tied up.”
“That pun is growing old, you know.”
“I’ll eat you up one of these days,” he rumbles softly. “Spread your legs and lick up that honey from?—”
“You’re insufferable.” A shiver that isn’t quite unpleasant goes through me, and it annoys me even more. “Intolerable.”
“Ah. Better than abominable, though, for sure.” He gathers in his long legs and slowly gets up, those cut muscles rippling across his chest, his big shoulders and arms. “If you believe the tales…”
I don’t need tales to tell me of wolves snatching girls from their doorsteps, though. No fairytale would have prepared me for what I lived through, and if he’s not abominable and is easy on the eyes, that changes nothing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ROSAMUND
Della finds us outside my room, her gaze instantly turning hostile as it fixes on Valen. “I’ll call Bert to tie him up?—”
“Enough of this cruelty,” I say. “Draw him a bath and find him something dry to wear.”
Her eyes widen. “But, my lady?—”
“Now, Della.”
“Of course, my lady.” Her cheeks redden. “I’ll call for it.”
The wounded expression on her face will forever haunt me. I’m hurting everyone I love. Maybe it will make saying goodbye easier.
I watch her ring the bell and set about gathering bathing sheets and clothes. As for me, I take the time to grab the knife from under my pillow. It’s in a leather sheath with a hole at the top which I use to thread my belt through and secure it at my hip. I make sure it’s hidden in the folds of my skirt.
Finally, a maid arrives, red-faced and out of breath, and Della gives short instructions for a clean shirt for Valen and locating his own clothes to wash them.
Soon enough, we have three maids inside my room, casting Valen wide-eyed glances and examining a couple of shirts made of rough linen, stained and worn.
Of course they wouldn’t bring fine garments for him.
The maids rush off, and manservants start arriving, carrying buckets of hot water to fill the tub.
And all the while, Valen stands by the window, his face an impassive mask, arms folded over his naked chest.
It’s so improper to have a bare-chested man in my room. Breathtakingly so. I know as much, even if my life up to now has mostly been dedicated to reading, embroidering, sword lessons, and screaming into my pillow at night.
A full life.Ha.
Add the fact that he’s dark fae, a werewolf, and it’s a full-blown scandal, witnessed by all these maids who will soon be gossiping about it in the kitchens and pantries.
More and more buckets are carried into the room by the manservants. A shirt and underpants are chosen and laid out on a chair, beside the folded bath sheets. I kick off my shoes and pad over to the fireplace to warm my hands.
After a while, Della beckons. “It’s all set, my lady. Time to give the young gent… the wolf some privacy for his bath.”
“But who will scrub my back?” Valen asks mildly.
