Page 119 of Fear the Flames
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“Yes,” I try not to sound as breathless as I feel, but I have a hard time controlling my reactions when it comes to him. I’ve never had to control my reactions around anyone else because nobody has ever gotten a strong reaction from me. My chest tightens with his proximity, and I fight the urge to lace my fingers through his hair and press him into me. How is it possible that he can make me feel more by his presence and words than any other man could when they were physically touching my body?
He licks his lips and nods his head, “Tell me when you’re in the water, and I’ll come in after you.”
“You promise?” I whisper as he bends down to untie his boots. The sight of him on his knees gives me a flashback to the brothel, and when he looks up at me with hungry eyes, I wonder if he’s remembering the same thing.
“I promise.”
ChapterForty-Nine
Istrip out of the rest of my clothes while practically running to the bathtub; steam has never looked so endearing. My body sinks into the water, and I pull the red pins from my hair before plunging my head under the surface.
“I’m in,” I call out while scooching toward the front of the tub so Cayden can get in behind me. His legs are longer; he’ll need more room to be comfortable. His feet pad against the floor, but I don’t let myself look in his direction. The water rises to the brim of the tub with his added presence.
“Much better than the river,” he mutters in a husky voice that makes my cheeks flush.
“We can always add some ice if you’re feeling nostalgic.” My heart flutters in the center of my chest, and I keep my arms secure around me. I don’t trust my hands right now.
“Maybe next time,” he says while uncapping a bottle of soap from the side of the tub. A light floral scent fills the air and makes me wish for the first blossoms of spring. “May I wash your hair for you?” He sounds…shy. I’ve never heard him sound even remotely shy. He’s always as hard as ice, wrapped in confidence and power.
“Yes,” I answer in a small voice.
His long fingers start working on my scalp, gently rubbing their way through my hair and working their way down my long strands. I feel a jolt of exhilaration every time his fingers skim my back. He takes care, ridding my hair of knots without pulling too hard. After he’s done with my ends, he brings his fingers back up to my scalp and gently massages me. Nobody has ever taken care of me like this. I let out a soft pleasure-filled hum and loosen my arms around myself, feeling utterly relaxed.
Cayden’s fingers still in my hair, and his long legs stiffen on either side of me. My back goes rigid again when I realize he can see my bruises before I’ve even seen them. It hurts to think about them, and I’ve never been good at processing internal pain. I try to bury things, push forward and ignore them because it scares me to feel those kinds of emotions. My fingers dance over my torso and gently brush the bruises to get a feel for how big they are. I inhale a sharp breath when I press too hard, and Cayden drops a hand from my hair to wrap it around my wrist.
“Elowen, what—”
“What happened in the hall? You said something went wrong, and you’re injured,” I rush the words out so quickly I’m afraid he won’t be able to understand me. He stays silent behind me, other than his uneven breathing that mingles with mine in this small space.
Silence between us is more deafening than arguing with each other.
He stays rigid but lets out a resigned sigh while releasing my wrist and tilting my head back. He picks up a tin bowl from the side of the tub and begins rinsing the soap from my hair. “Two guards must have heard the commotion over the music and came to investigate. I got distracted when they showed up, hence the cut on my arm and eye.” I try to turn around to check on his cuts, but he stills my shoulders with his hands and continues to pour water on top of my head, repeating the hypnotic motion of running his fingers through my strands.
“Sorry,” I grumble.
“Don’t be.” His soft chuckle dances across my neck as he leans forward to whisper in my ear, “I like your concern.”
This time, I can’t suppress the shiver that soars up my spine and clasp my hands in front of me to stop myself from reaching back to touch him. He takes in my reaction and laughs again, louder, less sheltered. The cold that had crept in while I was pressing my bruises is washed away just from the sound of his happiness, warming the dark parts of me in rays of golden light.
I smack his knee under the water. “Shut up,” I mumble.
“My sincerest apologies,” he says, not sounding the least bit remorseful. “After I killed the final guard that was in front of the dragon chamber, I ran after the two guards that had seen me. I was too far to catch up with them, so I threw knives and killed them both. Someone else was at the end of the hall and saw them fall; I heard their scream. I couldn’t see whoever else was there, so I turned around and ran back to the chamber. I didn’t want to risk anyone getting between us.”
Visuals of the dragon chamber flash in my mind—Cayden’s weight on top of me, shielding me, it’s engraved into my flesh and memory. The way he showed no fear while facing down a dragon with only a sword. Placing himself between myself and the creature. He saved me from an arrow aimed straight at my head, and laid himself on top of me, despite knowing I have the bond.
“Tell me what happened before I got to you,” Cayden’s voice filters forward. His hands return to the sides of the tub, and his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping it. He doesn’t seem angry, but he’s showing signs of anger…irritation…restraint. His arms tremble slightly, losing the brief calm in his movements when he was washing my hair.
“You can touch me if you want,” I offer with my heart in my throat. He instantly releases his hold on the tub and places his large hands on my torso. Dragging them in soothing strokes over my bruises. His gentle, careful movements only amplify my emotions.
I shouldn’t be comforted right now.
My bruises shouldn’t be rubbed.
I deserved it, but I don’t want to shy away from his touch.
“The dragons,” I start, clearing my constricted throat, “they got mad when they saw me. Their chains were enchanted and—” I cut myself off as words betray me, and shame slithers through me like their tails slithered on the chamber floor…the chamber they were locked in for years. I fidget with my hands; I want to feel useful; I want to do something right…something good. “Can I wash your hair now?”
