Page 59 of Slaying the Shifter Prince
“I didn’t think fae used candles.”
He circled to the other side of the bath and turned to me. Where earlier, he had been a sun god, bathed in that brightness, now he was a creature of dawn, edged with soft light and shadows, equally dark and bright and utterly beautiful.
It stole my breath.
“I heard humans prefer them. Thought it might make you more comfortable while you bathe.” He gestured to the bath, the glinting darkness of his eyes heavy.
How… thoughtful.
He could be as thoughtful, as kind, asniceas he liked, but that wouldn’t change the fact he’d killed my sister. I clung to that thought, dug my nails into it like it was the only thing that would stop me from falling over some horrible precipice.
I untied the velvet gown, achingly conscious of his scrutiny as I pulled each bow. When I shrugged it off, it was a relief—its thickness was too much in the steamy air. The thin chemise clung to me, already growing damp, and I had to peel it off. I started on the first buckle of my collar.
“Leave it on.”
The low murmur chased goosebumps across my skin. It tightened my belly. I couldn’t say why, only that my body hummed on alert, vulnerability whispering over my skin, followed by something else. Something I shouldn’t be feeling.
No. I wasn’t feeling anything. It was only my body and its needs. After all, I was standing here naked in front of an attractive man, and I hadn’t been allowed to seek gratification for over a month.
That was all. Nothing—nothingmore.
In silence, I stepped into the bath, and in silence, he watched.
The temperature was perfect. Hot, close to uncomfortable. The iridescent gleam of scented oils danced across the water’s surface as I lowered myself in, inch by unbearable inch. I paused to arch back and duck my hair under the surface. Once I was fully seated, I couldn’t help sighing.
“Is that good, little bird?” His touch trailed the edge of the bath as he circled to the opposite end and sank onto the stool.
“You heard the sound I just made. You know it is.”
His smile wasn’t cruel and brutal or wide and dazzling. This one was small and pleased, a quieter, more private kind of pleasure. “Well, you’ve been a good pet. You deserve a little treat.”
I almost thanked him, but there was something in his eyes that said he wasn’t finished.
“You’ve earned a bigger reward, in fact.” He dipped one fingertip in the water, sending ripples towards me. His gaze followed their progress until it landed on me. From the hot water lapping at my breasts, up to my collarbones, my collared throat, and finally my too-warm face, he consumed me with just a look.
“Touch yourself.”
I stilled. There was only the rise and fall of his chest, the drifting steam, and the flickering candle flames.
I needed it. My body throbbed, just from the way his gaze had passed over me. But he wasn’t going to let me claim on this reward later in bed, and he showed no sign of moving from his seat and leaving me alone.
“I said, touch yourself.” His voice was soft and gravelly, dark like the dim room. “Start with those sweet tits, Zita, like you did in my bed.”
Despite the bath’s heat, my goosebumps returned.
If I didn’t do this now, who knew when I’d get another chance? And the longer I walked around with all this desire bottled up, the more I would find myself wondering how his cock felt. The more I thought those things, the closer I’d get to exploding and acting upon them in a moment of pent-up insanity.
Slowly, slowly, I pulled my hands up my ribcage. Each breath lifted my breasts from the water, leaving them slick and wet, glistening with moisture, slightly chilled by the cooler air.
He watched my progress, every angle of him intent upon me. A hunting cat stalking his prey.
At last, I cupped my breasts, letting the nipples peek between my fingers.
Between parted lips, he let out a long breath. He gave a nod so faint, he might not have realised he was doing it.
When I squeezed, catching my nipples between my fingers, it lifted me and made him bite his lip.
“That’s good, pet. Does it feel nice?”
