Page 122 of Fated to the Frost King

Look where that love had gotten her, had gotten us all. Thanks to her, I was useless against the attacks that ravaged this kingdom and tried to take my sister.

Useless.

I ripped a comb through my hair, yanking the strands from my head. It slipped from my grasp, landing in the tub with a small splash.

A strangled sob escaped me as pain lanced from my scalp through the rest of me. I grabbed the comb again and raised it back out of the water, prepared to wrench every bloody strand at its root just to be rid of this sick, contaminated feeling.

A warm hand covered mine, halting it in its path.

I hadn’t even heard him approach. I swallowed down a lump in my throat, opening my mouth to tell him to leave me. Hadn’t he seen me weak more than enough for one lifetime?

Wasn’t I always that way?

But he gently wrested the comb from my hand, and the words died on my lips. Steady fingers grasped the bar of soap, and his shadow lowered behind me.

Kneeling.

The Frostgrave King was on his knees for me.

I sucked in a breath. Silent, scorching tears streamed down my cheeks for so many convoluted reasons that I couldn’t begin to pick through them. My heartbeat pounded through my chest, thudding in time with the power that stretched from his soul to mine.

I didn't turn to face him. Couldn’t. But neither did I stop him as he dragged the bar of soap along my hair, setting it down to reach for a bottle of oil. He worked that through my hair, too, then started in with the comb.

It was painstaking work, punctuated only by the even sound of his breathing. In. Out. I matched the pattern, grounded myself in those breaths, wrapped myself in his mana, and didn’t stop to care about all the reasons it was wrong.

Thatwewere wrong.

Those things did not exist outside this space. Onlyinandoutand his knuckles grazing my skin and the steady sensation of a comb pulled softly through each endless lock of my hair.

He reached across me to switch the lever for the drain, and there was nothing left in me to care that I was bare before him in every imaginable way.

Frigid air scraped along my skin but I couldn’t quite feel the cold, not with his body hovering so close to mine. His bare arm brushed along my shoulder, and I registered distantly that he must have taken off his shirt so he didn’t get it wet.

Warm water poured in, flowing freely down the drain. He held a glass pitcher under the stream until it was full. Gently, he placed a hand on my neck, thumb grazing up to my chin andpushing lightly. I obeyed the silent command, tilting my head backward and squeezing my eyes shut.

To keep out the water. To keep from getting a glimpse of his face that I was sure would undo me.

Heat spread from his thumb like molten lava, washing over my skin as surely as the water did, searing me straight through to my core. Every rivulet of water that slid along my skin felt like an extension of his touch.

An icy gust swept through the room, ghosting along the bare skin of my breasts in a heady contrast to the steaming water.

My lips parted, a gasp escaping me before I could stop it.

Draven froze. Hitched in a breath.

Then his fingers brushed across my skin, swiping away the excess of water on my brow. My cheeks. Dragging his thumb along my neck, lingering on the pulse that pounded with the need to spill every last one of my secrets.

He leaned forward again, though I could swear he was closer this time when he brushed against me.

The water came to a halt. I opened my eyes, but I still didn’t see him.

My body thrummed with energy that had nothing and everything to do with the bond.

He pulled back softly, returning to work a soft towel over my hair. Then he handed me one that was dry.

I got to my feet, stepping out of the tub and wrapping the towel around myself, keeping my eyes fixed solidly on the pale wooden floors while I pretended I couldn’t feel his gaze burning along my skin.

I saw him turn in my periphery, and finally, I forced myself to look at him. His aurora eyes blazed every shade of green and teal, possession and fury and remorse, all against a backdrop of pure, unrelenting need.

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