Page 62 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“We like a challenge. Like a spoiled princess who tells us to piss off.”

Now that makes me laugh. I giggle at his words and have the strangest urge to fling myself over the mountain of trunks and kiss him silly. Erynne’s letter has made me sad, but he’s managed to cheer me up despite things. Surely that deserves a kiss or two.

To my surprise, he holds up one of the soaps included in the trunks. “You said you wanted to try out some of the things you’d been sent. Would you like to bathe, princess?”

“It depends. Are you going to watch?”

His wings give an agitated flutter. “It depends. Would you let me?”

“I would,” I say, hopping to my feet. “I’ll even let you wash my back. If you’re good, I’ll let you wash my front.”

“Oh, I’ll be good,” he practically purrs.

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

My heart is racing as we head down to the kitchens. I don’t know if Nemeth is trying to distract me or attempting to pick up where we left off this morning, but I’ll gladly take it. I’m already wet with anticipation, my pussy slick enough that I can feel my folds brushing against each other as I move. He carries the lamp for light, sets it down on one of the tables, and pulls out the tub. “I’ll start a fire and heat the water for you.”

“It’s not necessary.” It’s a lot of work to heat the water—distracting work—and I’d rather have him focused on me. “If I get too cold, you can always warm me up.”

His reflective eyes flare with arousal. “If you like.”

Oh, Ilike.

I watch in silence as he fills the tub with bucket after bucket of water. When it’s hip deep, I slip off my robe and chemise and step forward, naked. My skin prickles, but it’s more from awareness of his gaze than the cold. Ever since I entered this tower, my baths have been cold, since it seems like a waste of fuel to make a fire just to heat water. I’m rather used to it.

Nemeth holds a hand out to me, and I place mine in his as I step into the tub. I can feel his gaze roaming over my pale limbs.I do wonder if he finds them unnaturally pale or unpleasant looking compared to his own, or the fact that I’m all rounded softness where he’s hard planes and angles. I haven’t seen many Fellians in my life, but the ones that I have looked like him. Is that why he wants to go slow? To “savor” things? So he can get used to my appearance?

I stand in the calf-deep water and consider him, still holding onto his hand. “Does my appearance repulse you? Be honest.”

“Repulse me?” He shakes his head. “You are built differently, but I do not find you repulsive.”

I glance down at my legs, and my knees that bend forward instead of backward. My lower half is definitely quite different than his. His kilts are short, frequently offering glimpses of the wrap that protects his cock, and his powerful hind legs flex under the skimpy shield of leather. One of his thighs is as big as my torso, and he’s made large all over—even with legs that bend backward, he’s still taller than Lionel, taller than any of the men at the Liosian court. I can only imagine how massive he’d be if he was built with the same legs as us. Tall as the tips of his wings that loft above his head, maybe?

Picturing that, I shiver with fascination.

“Cold?” His other hand slides over my shoulder, enormous and warm, and I bite my lip to smother the moan that threatens to rise. I’m so hungry for touch that I want to fling myself onto him and forget all about the bath.Savor, Candra, I remind myself.Savor!

With a little sigh, I lower myself into the water. “Not cold. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You.” I slither deeper into the water. It rises now that I’m in it, no longer calf-deep but brushing against my breasts. I lean back against the wall of the tub and rest my arms on the edges, which leaves my body free for his perusal.

Nemeth is silent. “So itwasa bad shiver.”

“No such thing as a bad shiver,” I reply, my tone light. “Certainly not when it comes to you. Wash me?” And I raise one foot into the air.

Those wings of his give a telling shake and he crouches low next to the tub. He picks up the bar of soap that he’d set aside and studies it, then looks at me.

I wink at him, even as I lower my foot onto the lip of the tub, keeping it out of the water as I wait to see how he’ll react.

“Do you toy with all the males that come into contact with you, I wonder?” Nemeth muses as he dips the soap into the water. The cake looks ridiculously small in his huge hand.

“Only the ones I like,” I tease. “Are you this shy around all women?”

“Only the ones I like,” he confesses, a sly look in my direction.

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