Page 71 of The Deer and the Dragon
I made my way to the guest room and crawled atop the mattress.
I stripped free of my things and allowed the auditory erotica to wash over me with drenching intensity. Az would have soaked anyone’s panties, but hearing him unleash himself was a memory I’d have to tuck into the back of my memory for lonely nights. The hedonistic music of their ravishing carried from their room into mine. The banging headboard created an excellent bass for the high, rhythmic sound of slapping flesh against flesh. It set the perfect tempo for the circular stroke of fingers after my hand wandered south. My right hand moved in company with their sounds, my left working my breast until it landed on my throat. My back arched off the bed in coordination with the snarls, and the loud, climactic screams of the grand finale happening on the other side of the wall.
I helped myself once, then twice.
If they didn’t want my adjacent participation, they shouldn’t have made their sexual chemistry such a palpable problem. I came harder than I had in months and fell intoa deep, dreamless sleep on the silk sheets of an impossibly soft bed.
It took me a while to realize where I was.
My fingers stretched out against the black, butter-soft sheets. I’d fallen asleep naked with the luxurious material caressing my skin. God, these sheets wereamazing. I almost made a mental note to ask him where he’d bought them before remembering that Azrames and I didn’t share a Bed Bath & Beyond.
I slipped from the bed and walked naked to the bathroom, bare feet warmed by luxuriously heated floors.
His enormous, bronze tub reminded me of a witch’s cauldron. It was gorgeous and I wanted one for my home, though I supposed unrequited envy might be a common theme down here. I smirked, recalling the seven deadly sins as my fingers dangled in the running water until I was satisfied with the temperature. I allowed the tub to fill while I investigated my surroundings. The tub was nearly the size of a one-person swimming pool, which gave me time to find an offensively soft towel, an antiqued silver mirror that seemed to be whispering breathy compliments, and a robe fit for a queen.
My lower lip puckered at the mysterious array of products.
As things hadn’t been bought in bulk at the nearest supermarket, the bottles lacked labels. I opened a variety of glass jars, all in uniformly aesthetic shades, sniffing and testing them until I ascertained that Azrames had provided shampoo, conditioner, soap, perfume, and a bright, minty liquid that had to be mouthwash. I wasn’t exactly expecting Old Spice, but I was still surprised that the hair products smelled nothing like the ash incense that he exuded. Instead, the delicate floral notes were distinctly feminine.
Then it was time to luxuriate in my personal spa.
I sank into the waters as I experimented with differentsoaps and things, mostly for the experience of bathing in Hell. Fauna had spent what may or may not have been the most animalistic night of her life only a few feet away. If I wasn’t going to get laid, I felt I at least deserved a sumptuous soak and a good meal. When I’d finished my bath, I wrapped my hair in the nicest towel a human could ever feel, slipped into the robe, and dabbed some of the perfume on my wrists. There was something vaguely familiar about the scent. It reminded me of the ocean and the forest all at once, though I couldn’t quite place it. Once again, it seemed like it belonged to a woman.
I rolled my eyes as I recalled a comment Azrames had made the night before. He’d suggested I might find something clean that would fit me in the closet.
The shampoo and conditioner, the perfume, the clothes all made sense. Of course, the ultimate fuck boy would have the sort of pussy parade that ended in a veritable treasure chest of clothes from which a guest could choose. I left wet footprints from the bathroom to the closest, ready for something dark, sexy, and sparkly. Perhaps I’d meet the King of Hell in lacy black lingerie.
I opened the closet and frowned.
My eyebrows bunched against the confusing array of neatly hung shirts and pants. Loose, flowy pants…crocheted tops and cropped band tees… My frown deepened as I leafed through the clothes as if paging through a book.
Everything was unmistakably Fauna’s.
I pulled a long, thin, white tunic free from the closet and stared at it. Intricate green and silver threading of beautifully stitched leaves ran along the collar and the sleeve cuffs. I returned it and grabbed something else—a loose, black shift dress with Nordic rosemaling embroidered along the hem.
Holy shit.
I took a few steps back from the closet and looked at the time capsule of their story.
Azrames was not some demonic fuck buddy. The perfume…it was Fauna’s.
This room was the shrine of a man in love.
I sank to the bed, closet doors still open as I stared at the evidence. I wasn’t sure how to pick something of hers to wear, not only because she’d managed to dress like a hippie for centuries but because it seemed wrong, somehow, to disturb the things he’d kept safe over the years as she’d transitioned from Scandinavian forest maiden to nomadic yoga fiend.
She’d changed, and he’d let her.
It was all I could do to keep from crying out when the door opened.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that Fauna didn’t knock before letting herself in, but I still jumped as if I’d been caught in the middle of breaking the law. I blinked out an apology.
“Oh, good,” she said cheerily, oversize button-up shirt grazing the tops of her thighs, hair tousled, and with the glow of someone who’d just gotten laid. “You’re awake! And you found the clothes.” She went to the closet and selected a few comfortable things, then gave the clothes a hard shove, forcing them to the far end of the rack as she fished for two zipped-up bags at the back of the closet.
“Here.” She tossed me a pair of cozy sweats. “Unless you want to wear the robe until we get ready for the palace. I do keep some nice things here. Just in case.” She winked.
“Fauna…”
She stopped what she was doing to look up at me.
