Page 74 of Sinful Mates

Magick crackled against my skin. Damn mate was checking his Thoth highways for updates. Rule breaking and not part of this game, the objective to let go, not sneak in a peek when he wanted to.

I launched off his lap, spinning and yanking the top of his cut. “Get your ass in the bathroom before I put you in a coma and the world really does go to shit.”

His eyes burned with a challenging fire that boosted mine. Under normal circumstances, he accepted orders from Slade and Zethan, not his woman.

Add a splash of tender female coaxing and some charm, sweet smiles and taking his hand, linking fingers, and I managed to tug him to a stand.

“I know what you’re playing at, Sorceress,” he muttered, conceding and coming with me, pushing himself ahead of me to lead the way. I let him have the small victory because we were both going to be winners from this.

As for his statement, he had no clue what I planned. My clever mate knew books inside and out and liked to think he had everyone categorized into a personality type. Class A did this and that. Class B the opposite. Life wasn’t as simple as black and white. There were grays and colors. It took courage to look within. To want to heal a limiting belief. If we had any chance of moving beyond his, bonding and uniting, then he had to find his bravery.

We walked to the bathroom where I plugged the tub and flicked the hot and cold water faucets on. Daddy liked showers, but today we were doing it my way. Slow. Sensual. Taking time to unwind and destress. Self-care was important and Daddy fought and defended others but rarely took time for himself besides a quick spritz of aftershave, a scrunch of hair serum through his shoulder length dark locks, or some shaving balm to cool the burn.

He tried to brush past me to switch off the faucet. “Come on, Sorceress. Time is short.”

I wasn’t hearing his excuse. “Yeah, you’ve got lots of shit to do. Shit with me. Shit for yourself.Right now.”

He didn’t like that. One. Bit. The ice splintering in his gaze warned me to back down. “Sorceress,” he growled in warning.

Fuck, this was fun—thrilling, actually—for dominant, controlling Castor to pass me the reins and let me be the boss who made the decisions.

Bad sport. Stubborn. Immovable. Inflexible. Daddy could wrestle all he wanted, because we were playing this again and again until he relinquished control. Until he gave me what we needed but couldn’t see it yet.

“The more you resist, the more we repeat this process.” I added a raspberry bliss bubble bomb to the bath water, relishing the fizzing sounds as it dissolved along with Castor’s resistance once I was done with it. “And for the record, I’m really enjoying this.”

He twisted his head away like a disgusted sore loser. “You’re practically gloating.”

For an avatar under the umbrella of science, math and experiments, he sure didn’t like to test himself and grow.

“I believe the word you’re looking for is glowing.” I clasped my hips and jerked my head. “Get naked and in the bath.”

Exhilaration skated along my spine at holding the power, one of few times he let me, sometimes in the bedroom and rarely outside it.

“Sorceress,” he growled again.

Let him hiss and spit. My mind was as immovable as stone on this topic. “Growl the whole time and it won’t get you out of this any faster.”

Castor let out an impatient sigh, stripping his clothes off, letting me marvel at his softer planes, less defined than my other mates. Cooperation earned him my fingers trailing along his abs and over his back.

Amber eyes ablaze, he got into the steaming tub, back straight, legs submerged. He soaped himself up, having the world’s fastest bath, trying to speed up the process and get to work as soon as possible.

“Slow down. Enjoy this.” I clicked my tongue on my teeth. “Nurse’s orders.”

Daddy worked just as hard as Zethan, hunched over books at night, pouring through texts for cures for our curses or the identity of the Dark One behind our problems… a mystery solved by a friend from the Greek pantheon. Both Zethan and Castor deserved a little R&R. Damn workaholics.

On that note, I found my next victim for relaxation. Who needed to work in the club’s clinic when I had four stubborn mates?

I sank to my knees, placing my palm to Castor’s chest, inching him backward into murky, pink liquid. “Sink beneath the water. The heat is good for releasing your muscles.”

For each inch he reclined, I rewarded him a tickle on his pec. Slowly he sank under the water, wetting his hair, releasing a few bubbles. Surfacing, he sighed, “That’s good.”

I freed myself of my top and panties. “Told you. You work too hard and don’t take the time to enjoy things or relax.”

Our getaway had been the first time he didn’t do anything non-club related.

He shook his head, brushing his fingers across his wet hair, looking like a slick god. “Damn. You’re right, Sorceress.”

Exactly. I studied all my mates and their habits. Made changes for them to be healthier. They were more likely to die from a bullet or knife than heart attack, stroke, or cancer.

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