Page 17 of To Tame An Angel

That awful feeling burned me once more, imagining what he must’ve endured since the age of five. I nodded and walked to him, taking a sponge left by the help. He eyed me wearily.

“Time for punishment?” he asked with a testy tone.

I smiled, waving the sponge. “Of sorts. Since you’re bed bound, we might as well make up for time.”

He stiffened as I pulled the pot closer to the bed from the table. I took out two vials and uncorked them, inhaling their lovely smell. He watched with near fascination as I shook drops into the water. The smell of eucalyptus and lavender filled the space.

He grimaced. “What is that?”

I sunk the sponge into the water.

“Scoot over,” I said, wringing out the sponge.

He didn’t move, bare-chested as he was with a thin sheet covering his legs and privates. He looked ready to fight me. He eyed the sponge with trepidation, and I fought the urge not to sigh and become overwhelmed with frustration.

“It’s a bath. I’m bathing you,” I said, showing him the soaked perfumed sponge.

Unmoved, he looked up at me. “I was bathed before I was brought here.”

I raised a brow. “That was before you stumbled half naked through a forest and nearly died in a ravine.” I pointed to his grimy arms. “Look at you, you’re filthy.”

His mouth was set in a thin line. “I’m the cleanest I’ve ever been.”

My shoulders quickly deflated. Gods. Ok, baby steps. I swear it’s like dealing with a child.

“Give me your hand. I promise I won’t hurt you,” I offered him mine.

Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it into mine. He was so much larger that it covered mine entirely, seeping warmth into me. Showing him the sponge, I gently pressed it against his forearm and let the warm water coat him. His eyes were on the sponge. He was tense, the muscles of his forearm straining. Slowly, I moved the sponge and cleaned his arm. His brows shifted upwards and his eyes softened. There was a sweetness to his realization, and I smiled.

“See? It’s nice,” I murmured.

“Yes,” his word was a whisper. “I… this was done to me when I was little. Before the pits.”

I paused my movements and realized he was so broken it might be beyond my capabilities to fix. Maybe that’s why other women don’t even bother. If they ever become close enough to their angel-men, the responsibility was so large and insurmountable that it became overwhelming. The wrongness of our entire setup as a society sliced me thick under my heart and the compulsion to comfort him grew stronger. It strengthened my magic; I felt it sizzling under my skin.

“Scoot,” I said.

This time, he obeyed. I settled myself next to him, pressed against the sheet covering his hips, and stared at him. He was unreadable, but he offered me his hand again. I smiled slightly and took it, cleansing his skin as he watched my movements. The water ran down my arm, creating translucent spots on my gown. I dipped the sponge again and moved to his other arm, making him twist towards me. His head came closer and this time he studied my face. I purposively allowed him the privacy to do so.

“Why are you doing this?” His words were a whisper of breeze against my cheek. I looked up at him. “I hit you and ran away and fought you the entire time. When are you going to punish me?”

I pulled back and softly took his chin, making him stiffen. I smiled, running the sponge over his neck. He loved this, almost closing his eyes and sighing.

“The thing about punishment is,” I murmured, sliding the sponge down his neck and into his chest. “Pain and pleasure walk a fine line. Pain is about anticipating the pleasure.”

The smell of woody musk and citrus floated to me and I smiled wider. His lips parted and his blue eyes darkened as he stared at me. I sunk the sponge once more and brought it back to his chest, taking my time over his nipples and allowing myself plenty of time to appreciate his muscled body.

“You’re very beautiful. Did you know that?” I asked him.

This confused him, and he pulled back with a questioning look. “Men are not beautiful.”

“Of course they are,” I laughed.

He stared at me with such confusion it made me laugh more. He was transfixed. His lips quirked. A near ghost of a smile. I blushed at his intense stare.

“That is a strange laugh,” he stated.

“Oh,” I sunk the sponge into the water and wrung it. The water is already getting dirty. “I give you a compliment and you tell me I’m strange.”

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