Page 31 of Immortal Sins
I grab a similar uniform, but he points to the skimpy ones.
“Never.” I brace my hands on my hips and swallow another mouthful of what I can only assume is a mix of detergent and perfume.
“May I remind you that we are both on the run? If you wear this, no one will question us.” Flynn wades to the center of the fountain, the water coming up to his knees. Without an ounce of hesitation, he strips and runs his head underneath a water jet, rubbing his neck and shoulders.
His silver scars twinkle in the sun. They direct my gaze down the length of his back to his perfectly toned ass, like deviously well-placed flight attendants.
A wave of heat worse than all the ones I suffered through on our way over engulfs me, and I gawk. Back in the hay loft, I managed to touch his un-mangled back without issue, but now… I shield myself from the outrageous sight with one hand, but only manage to grip my curls and bite my lips.
He spins around, and flames turn my hot skin into lava.
Crystal-clear Fae water drips down Flynn’s inked chest, and my total and complete inability to stop staring makes me question the efficiency of the cherry wood necklace around my neck.
He claps forcefully. “Stop ogling and get changed. Chop. Chop.”
I force myself to turn around. “Did you have to strip?”
“I’m not entering the palace smelling like a gnome’s butt, thank you very much. Besides, they won’t let us in if we’re filthy.”
Flynn and Cole were supposedly attached at the hip growing up. Didn’t he come to the palace often as a kid? From the corner of my eyes, I see him hop out of the fountain.
Flynn rubs a cloth to his head. “Hurry up. I know most of the servants that work here, but I’d still prefer to steer clear of them.”
“I thought we would be safe in the city.”
He wrangles a pair of lace-up pants past his knees and ties them below his bare abs. “We’ll be safer with Cole, in the palace. Do you realize what we’re carrying?” He swipes the horn from the bag, shoves it into his boot, and hides the rest of our stuff inside a dusty hamper.
With a grunt, I pry a blue courtesan outfit from the folded pile.
“Wear the black,” Flynn says.
My eyes search for black, but I can’t find any and arch a brow. “Does it matter?”
Flynn beelines for a thick chest in the corner and rummages through it for a minute. With a victorious grunt, he yanks out an identical uniform to the one I found, but in black.
“Why the fuck does it matter which color I wear?”
“It’s Cole’s color. We wouldn’t want you to be summoned by another royal on our way in, now, would we?” Flynn grins from ear to ear like the prospect is hilarious.
I snatch the clothes from his hands. “How do I know it isn’t your color?”
Flynn presses his lips together in a thin line. “If I had a color, you’d know.”
My eyes skim the laundry. “Turn around.”
Flynn spins to face the wall.
“Why do they use different colors, anyway?” I peel off my filthy clothes, and my heart squeezes as I unhook my bra.
“It makes it clearer which royal you want to fuck. White is for sharing.”
“Ugh.” I step into the fountain, and my muscles sing at the soft caress of water. I wet my hair too, scrubbing the sweat and dust from my body. “How many colors are there?”
“I will gladly draw you the Desirys family tree when we’re nottrespassing.” He turns around and hands out a drying cloth without stealing a peek, his gaze firmly glued to the side.
“You’re awfully serious in Faerie.”
The black top of the courtesan’s uniform has sleeves, but it molds to my curves like a second skin. The roundness of my breasts stretches the soft satin. I tie a knot below my chest in a big bow and shimmy into the flowy, semi-translucent skirt. The fabric scratches my skin, and the train is long and bothersome. The design leaves my stomach bare, and I clutch the waistband of the skirt nervously. “Alright. I’m decent.”
