Page 102 of Anathema

After washing my hair and rinsing away the soap, I treaded back toward the edge of the basin and grabbed the towel that Rykaia had set out for me.

The door swung open again, and I scrambled to wrap the towel around my body, covering as much of myself as I could.

I expected to chide Rykaia for her rudeness.

Instead, I found a tall, brawny figure standing in the doorway, his body completely filling the frame of it. One hand covered the lower part of his face, the other clenched at his side.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice gruff and deep, its rough timber strumming my heart into a flutter, as I stood naked beneath the towel.

“Rykaia … she …. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to invade your space.”

“Rykaia …” he grumbled, his fist tighter than before. Still, he held his hand over his jaw, as if to hide his face, and I realized he was as flustered as I was right then.

Strange. Based on what little I knew of him at that point, he didn’t seem capable of being caught off guard. In fact, on the ride to the castle, I recalled having been impressed by how very aware and vigilant he’d been of his surroundings. Like a hunter.

Yet, there he stood, refusing to look at me.

“I’ll leave.” I gathered up the clothes Rykaia had offered me, only then noticing what I thought to be a white shift was actually a man’s tunic.

He seemed to take notice, as well, frowning down at the garment dangling from my fingertips that matched the half-tied tunic he wore tucked into his black, leather trousers. A sight I would’ve stolen a moment to appreciate, had I not felt like what little I’d eaten was about to make an appearance on the floor right then.

“I’ll wear what I arrived–”

“No,” he said abruptly. “I’ll see to it that your dress is properly washed and returned to you.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“No imposition.” His clipped and grumpy responses hinted at irritation, though.

Why he refused to lower his hand from his face had me searching for the source of his apparent insecurity, but I could hardly see anything in the dim light of the room.

A strange detail caught my attention, though. The scorpion that’d burrowed into his palm suddenly wasn’t there, but instead, appeared at his forearm just below his rolled-up sleeve. To be sure, I glanced down to the back of his other hand, which bore no scorpion tattoo there, either. Had it moved?

“You used my soap.” The comment yanked me from my thoughts to see his gaze shifted, presumably to the unused bar that Rykaia had supplied, and back to me.

“My apologies if that wasn’t okay. The berry soap is lovely, but I ... I just happen to like that particular scent.” The lack of response that followed left me thinking he was annoyed that I’d dipped into his personal things. “I’m sorry for earlier, too.I lost my temper, and I didn’t mean to …. I sometimes act before thinking.”

Again, he didn’t say anything in return, only peered back at me over the top of his hand, his eyes a turbulent mix of scrutiny and curiosity. Unless I was misled by the fickle lighting, they seemed more golden, less angry. The more he stared at me, the more aware I became of my body’s reaction–the twitch in my inner thighs and the soft tickle in my belly. My pulse trembled, waiting for him to say, or do, something. A maddening silence hovered between us, the tension so thick, it swallowed the air.

“I’d like to get dressed, if that’s all right,” I finally said.

His eyes sharpened when he seemed to snap out of his silent musing. He turned as if to leave, but paused and kicked his head to the side, revealing a profile as handsome as I’d have imagined. Angular and chiseled jawline, with a day’s worth of stubble, the intense slope of his brows, and an elegantly shaped nose, all of which, gave him a commanding appearance. The lethal features of a man who could have any woman he wanted. “I did not mean to put my hand to your throat,” he said, the calm in his voice catching me off guard.

Leaving me as the one not knowing what to say, while I stood fumbling for thought. The pause stretched longer, stoking the awkward exchange between us. Say something. In the absolute absence of thought, I found myself staring at his broad shoulders, my mind wandering to what he must’ve looked like without his shirt. “You have a nice back.” The words tumbled haphazardly from my lips, and I slapped my hand to my mouth far too late to contain them.

I turned away, covering my eyes and the humiliating blush that crawled over my face. “Bath. I meant you have a nice bath.”

Before he wordlessly strode from the room, closing the door behind him, I caught a distinct dimple in his cheek.

“You insufferable fool.” I hid my face behind my hands, the mortification unrelenting as it pounded through my head. What was it about the man that turned me into a blundering idiot?

I dressed quickly, hating that I didn’t have a clean cammyk to wear underneath. Staring down at my cloth bodysuit that typically covered all of my private parts, I pondered wearing it unlaundered, then remembered I’d pissed myself back at the woods.

God. It felt so unnatural walking around without it. Aleysia had always refused to wear one, calling them restrictive torture devices. While my breasts felt heavy and exposed without the support, it was certainly a relief to be able to breathe easier than before.

Piled atop the bodysuit sat the cross choker, and while I was inclined to simply toss the cursed thing, I somehow felt naked without it. All my life I’d been forced to wear it, but here, it didn’t feel so much as a punishment anymore. In spite of its negative implications, it felt like a link to home. To my sister. Sighing, I clipped it back on.

When I exited the bathing room, I found Zevander standing alongside the alcove of windows, his face covered by the mask he always wore. It didn’t make sense, given that mesmerizing profile I’d seen moments ago. His gaze trailed over me, and whatever thoughts passed through his mind had his hands balled into tight fists again. Anger? Disgust? I couldn’t tell with that damned mask covering half his face.

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