Page 65 of The Ballad of a Bard

West swallowed, readying himself for another wave as he said, “I need you to take your clothes off. You’re going to go into the shower and let the cold water run over you. I don’t know if it will undo anything, but it’s the best option we’ve got at the moment. I’m not sure how long this spell is going to last either.”

Her green and gold eyes widened as she stopped messing with her shoes, half undone. “I- I can’t undo the laces by myself. Muse laced it up.”

He ignored the roar that ran through him as he edged closer to her. “Turn around.”

Her throat bobbed, her cheeks heated and she slowly rose from removing her other shoe, leaving her barefoot. She rotated her hips until her back was facing him.

“I’m going to touch you now.” West murmured, and it came out far more husky than he intended. He couldn’t help it. Had Altivar fed him Heartache’s blood too? It certainly seemed so as he pushed her hair off of her neck, setting it over her shoulder. It wasn’t like it would have affected him but he didn’t like the other option.

Her breath sharpened, her spine locked and he tried to concentrate as he found the top of the ribbon that criss-crossed through the plunging back of the dress. He tried as hard as he could to not accidentally brush against her tepid skin.

West tugged the bow free, pulling until the one knot became two strings. She was as stoic as a statue, unmoving. He threaded the first one through the loop, the pressure slackening as he continued. On and on he went, until the ribbon fluttered to the floor. His hands came up to her shoulders, latching onto the sleeves and he pushed them down. The fabric slid off her body with ease, revealing a cream corset below and similar undergarments that covered her enough that he let out a breath of relief.

But there was still enough on display that it triggered that side of him. That primal, hungry part of him hadn’t had a sample of what the skin had to offer in at least a decade.

Crimson shivered as he unintentionally dragged his knuckles against her shoulder blades. “West-”

“Let’s get you into the shower.” He abruptly turned on his heel before he could make a mistake, finding the bathing chamber. He removed the absurdly shiny jacket and tossed it aside, not caring where it landed. She may have been the one who handled a raging fire, but he was the one who felt hot at the moment.

West rolled his blue sleeves up as he reached for the metal handle and turned it all the way down, to the very end of the blue line. The shower creaked and the pipes strained, but it startedto pour water from the nozzle at last. He tested it, finding it cold enough to cool her down but not biting enough to freeze her solid.

“Alright, Heartstrings. It’s ready.” He didn’t turn around as he called to her, pushing off the wall and leaving the glass door open for her as he heard her enter.

Crimson walked past him, gasping as the water hit her. It began to coat her in a cold, dripping waterfall that soaked her to the bone. Her cream corset became practically invisible and he had to look anywhere but at her.

West took calm breaths, trying to steady his heart as it reached for her, lunged for her, cried out to her.

“I can’t do this.” Her teeth chattered. “It’s too cold!”

He anticipated her next move and spun around before she could dart out of the shower and trail a wet path into his rooms. She bit her lip again, hard, as he pressed her firmly against the wall. The water poured over both of them now, drenching them. His shirt clung to him, his pants became soaking wet as he locked gazes with her.

Her hazel eyes were dark, pooling pits of desire as he held her there.

Saints above, they drew him in.

She smelled of rose and musk and blood, an intoxicating blend that drove him wild.

West’s mouth became insanely dry as she wiggled against him, trying to break free. “Crimson, you have to cool down.”

“Not like this.” She whined, struggling against his strong grasp. His forearm was braced across her chest, his knee locking her between him and the stone chamber. She had nowhere to go, but kept acting like she did.

“Yes,like this.” He argued, gritting his teeth as he controlledthe sensation that rippled through him like an unforgiving hurricane of lust, need, want. “There’s no other way.”

“It’s too cold.” She angrily glared at him, and it made him smirk.

“And you’re too hot.” West retorted. “If I don’t keep you here, then you’ll burn up from the inside out.”

“I want to burn.” Crimson seethed against him. “I wantyouto make me burn. I want your mouth on mine. I want your fingers inside me. I wantyouinside me.”

He let out a shaky puff of air. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” She asked him again, practically demanding an answer after he didn’t give her one when she last asked that.

“Because I might just give in.” West growled at her, leaning in close. “To hear you say such,deliciousthings, it ruins me completely. I’ve lasted decades without so much as a touch from a female, and yet there you are and it drives me wild to hear you say things like that.”

Crimson let out a soft whimper.

“Do you know how absurdly tempting you were tonight?” He dropped his gaze to her lips, where the damning sound came from. He liked the way it sounded, wanted to make her whimper even more and that was the problem. “In that gown, of all things? With my motif in your hair?”

---