Page 91 of Demon's Beauty

“I absolutely am.”

I could stay here and get lost in her, but if my witch wants a bath, my witch is getting the best bath she’s ever had.

Taking Soleil by the hand, I lead her back into the room and through to the adjoining bathing chamber. It’s as expansive as the rest of the place, with tiled floors and a wide soaking tub that’s absolutely big enough for two, but I try to push those thoughts aside as I turn on the tap and warm water rushes out.

“There are plenty of soaps and oils for you to use,” I tell her. “If there’s anything else you need, let me know and I’ll go down and ask the proprietress.”

Soleil laughs softly. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Well, then.” I clear my throat. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Before she can say anything else—beforeIcan say anything else idiotic like asking if she needs company for her bath—I turn and leave the room, shutting the door behind me.

The splash of water into the tub follows, and I make myself pace even further away, all the way out to the balcony where I plunk down into one of the seats overlooking the sea.

Goddess, the indecision is agony.

Do I press closer? Do I give her space? What does my witch need right now?

The same threads of worry creep back in, the same deep-seated fear that no matter what I do, it may not be enough.

Can I be what Soleil needs? Can I be worthy of her?

My mate is the sun, and I’d soak in her warmth gladly for the rest of my life, but perhaps she wants more than a simple admirer.

The thoughts crowd in, circle close, nearly drive me mad until my softly spoken name jerks me back to the present.

“Finn?”

Soleil’s voice from behind the bathroom door has me immediately rising from my seat and crossing the room.

“Is there something you need?”

“What?”

I lean in closer and try again. “I wanted to see if there was anything you needed.”

“You might have to come in,” Soleil says. “I can’t hear you through the door.”

I can hear her just fine, but perhaps humans don’t have as keen a sense of hearing as demons do.

Slowly, I crack open the door.

The air inside the bathing chamber is humid and fragrant with the soaps and oils I spied earlier sitting on the ledge over the tub. The tiles are warm beneath my feet from the pipes that run under them, and the first thing I see when I take a tentative half-step into the room is a stack of clothes folded into a neat pile on the chair beside the door.

Soleil’s clothes.

The demure, practical black dress she had on in the workshop. Her underthings, also black, which I try not to look at too long as I take a deep, unsteady breath and keep my eyes on the floor.

“Is there something you need?” I ask again, all my manners hanging on by a thread.

“Finn.”

I can’t help it, I look.

And fuck, what a sight.

Steam curls around Soleil’s lush form.