Page 45 of Dark Destiny: The Fates' Bargain

He was so good at this, wrapping criticism in a compliment, but she knew all of his tricks and wasn't going to let them affect her.

She leveled her gaze at him. "It's not complicated. I watched all the videos that Hildegard had sent me several times, and I've worked out a simple plan for today. We are going to start with just a few basic moves."

"You watched videos of how it's done, and that makes you an expert?"

"It's not as complicated as it sounds," she said, and forced herself to believe it.

She waited for him to eat his oatmeal and the plate of fruit, to drink another cup of coffee, to eat the croissant, then ask for another refill of coffee, and she did not rush him even though she knew he was stalling.

"I need to get you into your swimming trunks," she said when he finally covered the tray with the napkin, signaling that he was done.

"I can manage the trunks, Areana. I am not entirely helpless."

He couldn't, and they both knew that, but she was careful never to remind him how limited his mobility still was despite the recent improvements.

The sensation creeping back into his legs was a secret he still hadn't chosen to share with anyone but her, hoarding it as some scrap of leverage against a day when he might need it. His legs no longer refused him outright. They simply couldn't yet be trusted to hold him, the muscles wasted down to almost nothing from disuse.

"Of course, my love. I'm only going to help if you need me." She rose to her feet and released the brake on his wheelchair.

Wheeling him into the bedroom, she parked him between the bed and the closet.

"Trunks first." She took them and the bathrobe out of the closet and dropped them on the bed.

"Lift for me," she said, crouching in front of him.

He braced his hands against the wheelchair's arms, lifting his hips with effort as she pulled down his pajama pants, and as soon as the pants cleared his bottom, he dropped back into the chair.

This was always the awkward part.

She'd seen her mate naked many thousands of times over the past five thousand years, and each time he had stripped in front of her, he'd had an erection. Now there was nothing, and not because he found her unattractive after all those years.

The mind-body connection just wasn't there yet, and his manhood lay flaccid and shrunken.

She turned around and folded the pajama pants, then put them on top of the bed and took the trunks.

Crouching next to him, she worked them up until they reached his hips.

"Lift for me, my love."

He did so with a grunt, and she worked the trunks up and over, quick and businesslike.

"There." She sat back on her heels. "Looks good."

"That's a matter of perspective."

Areana smiled. "I bought a pair that looks almost the same as the one you have in the harem. I thought you'd be pleased."

He grimaced. "You mean like the one Ihadin the harem. I'm never going back there, and my so-called sons have probably robbed my closet and are wearing my gowns. The ones you embroidered so lovingly."

He missed his gowns, and she could obviously get him new ones and embroider them by hand like she used to, but it would only make him look ridiculous.

Those gowns were fit for a king, but Navuh was now king of nothing.

Perhaps she could embroider his bathrobe.

She handed it to him and left him to arrange it over his shoulders himself. "I'll embroider your shirts. Would you like that?"

"No," he grumbled while struggling to work the bathrobe under his hips.