Page 93 of Kingdom of Faewood

My heart began to pound, and soft feelings again flowed through me.Damn him. Damn him for making me second-guess if he truly is a ruthless bastard who can’t be trusted.In this moment, he reminded me of the Jax I’d spent the past few days with. The Jax I’d begun to feel things for.

I tried grabbing the soap again, but another spiral of blistering pain shot up my arm.

“Elowen,” he growled.

“Okay, fine. But no looking.”

He returned to the bath to kneel beside me, and his gaze stayed carefully upward, never dipping to my exposed flesh.

A moment of awkwardness made me want to renege my agreement. Jax was literally kneeling at my side as I sat naked, inches away from him, but before I could saynever mind, he grabbed the soap and cloth and dipped them into the water.

“Lean forward if you would.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. “You’re really going to wash me?”

“If you’ll let me.”

Embarrassment flushed across my neck, and I reminded myself that plenty of males had seen me exposed. But something about this felt different. It felt...intimate.

Only Jax’s eyes were visible with his mask on, but the intensity of his gaze didn’t lessen as he worked the soap through the washcloth until suds covered it.

I didn’t know if he could feel my hesitance or know that I’d never been in a position like this with anyone, but he said softly, “I would never hurt you.” His throat worked. “Not intentionally at least.”

A stifled breath lifted my chest. For some inexplicable reason, I believed him. Once again, stupid me, I believed him.Him, the Dark Raider, the male feared by all in the kingdoms was strangely who I felt safest with. Yet he’d kidnapped me, stole my senses, locked me in this chamber, and had done it all to use my lorafin skills to his advantage.

The conundrum of skewing emotions he brought out in me again took hold, like a clamping fist around my heart. Yet I leaned forward anyway and wrapped my arms around my legs. And as I settled in the soothing, hot water, the full meaning of his words hit me.

Not intentionally at least.

Once again, my heart wanted to believe those words to be true. That Jax had neverwantedto hurt me. I thought back tohow he’d taken lengths to explain things to me when we arrived in Jaggedston, when hehadhurt me, but he’d seemed so remorseful, as though hurting me hurt him too.

Frowning, I let that truth sink in, and then I whispered, “I know you wouldn’t.” And somehow, the belief that he never wanted to cause me pain dug deep.

He exhaled a breath and raised the washcloth to my back. Fragrant scents of wildflowers rose from it. He ran the soft cloth across my skin, massaging it in circular motions. He touched me carefully to avoid any lingering bruises.

It felt so good that I closed my eyes. Never, in all of my memories, could I recall anyone ever caring for me like this. Not after a calling. Not as a child. Never.

Of course, as fae, we didn’t actually need to bathe. We could use our magic to self-cleanse, but soap always smelled fragrant and left my skin more moisturized than cleansing magic did. Taking baths was one of the few luxuries I truly enjoyed in my caged life, especially after callings.

“Does any of this hurt?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head. “No. It feels nice.”

“Good.” When he reached my neck, he did the same, except he used his hands to soothe my aching muscles after rubbing more soap all over me.

A low moan escaped me when his fingers worked deep into my stiff shoulders. He paused momentarily, his aura pulsing, but then he continued and took his time, thoroughly cleaning each area and massaging all of the hurt away.

He washed me everywhere, my back and each arm, and then he asked me to settle back in the tub so he could wash my legs.

Complying, I did as he asked even though all of me was visible when I lay supine. But even when I was naked before him, he kept his gaze firmly on safe areas only. It would have been so easy for him to ogle my breasts or leer at my female flesh, but he didn’t.

And I knew he truly wasn’t looking when the washcloth traveled over the mark on my lower stomach, the mark that signaled that I was a lorafin, and he didn’t so much as pause.

Instead, every movement Jax made was gentle, each touch reverent, and his gaze never strayed anywhere it shouldn’t.

From how serious his demeanor was, I wondered if only I was being affected by this strange encounter. Similar to the morning I’d woken in Fosterton, a heat began to rise inside me.

With each swipe of his hand running up my thighs, a clench of need tightened my belly. And with each caress of his fingers along my arms or the deep rub of his hands when he massaged my feet, a smattering of nerves tightened my core. I had to bite my lip to stop from moaning a few times.

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