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As I walk through the doors to my opulent home, the sloshing sounds of my boots and sopping wet clothing bring me back to the present. The very damp, cold, salty present.
I summon Raya, my maid quickly springing down the stairs, only to stop at the bottom one and fall into a fit of laughter.
"Where have you been?" she cackles, trying and failing to straighten up. Aside from Shan, Raya is the only person who could be so insubordinate and get away with it. She is my closest confidante in the world and, if I'm being honest with myself, my only true friend.
"Valta," I tell her. That one word is enough for her to understand just what kind of mood I'm in.
She nods. "I see. I'll have someone start a nice hot bath for you, then."
Without another word, she spins and darts up the stairs to wake one of the maids with the magic to do so.
Not willing to drag more of this water and mud into the palace, I strip my clothes right at the entryway, knowing they'll be cleaned up and back in my dressing room by morning. As freezing as it is to be walking through this place nude, dragging the wet clothing along with me would be exponentially colder.
By the time I reach the bathroom, it's already full of steam and thankfully empty of people. The water scalds as I sink into it, burning the frigidity from my limbs. The external discomfort eventually wanes, leaving behind only the bit left within me. Bone-deep exhaustion paired with the sweet lavender of the bath nearly beckons me to sleep, but if I sleep here, there's a very good chance a maid will find me in the morning, looking half-dead like most of the other inhabitants of this castle.
Without my permission, my eyes drift closed, and I have to fight against myself to stay conscious. I nearly jump out of the tub lest I let it drag me under again. With just a gray towel draped around me, I stagger into the dressing room to find something to sleep in.
A loose pair of soft pants later, my eyes dart to the trick door still cracked open.
I shouldn't.
I had no plans to continue watching her.
Lying to yourself again, Kairon.
Why else would I have left the door slightly open?
I rub the towel against my head, roughly drying it to prevent me from dripping where I shouldn't before throwing it on the oversized, plush chair in my dressing room.
I peek through the trick door, only able to see the smallest corner of the bed from this angle. It was enough earlier to see her rage through the room, but I crave a glimpse of her peace, too.
Just a little bit closer.
This is insanity.
One moment, I'm in her closet, wishing for a better look. The next, I'm frozen at the foot of her bed, tracking as her chest rises and falls with each breath.
Sheets tangle around her knees, leaving nearly every inch of her on display. The light of the moon through the curtains sends ripples across her soft frame, making her dark blue sleeping gown look much like the way the water moved after I threw the pearl earlier.
Her slightly parted mouth, the way her lashes cast shadows across her cheeks, the stray hairs draped across her forehead and chest, everything feels like a temptation. A dangerous one, like the impulsive desire you might feel to jump off a cliff into wild waters below.
This is a terrible invasion of privacy. Of all the horrid things I've done, all the torture and murder, this feels the most depraved. And without a doubt, the most intoxicating of all my sins.
She doesn't like to be touched, she told me. Uncomfortable with skin to skin contact. If I were to cross that line, it would surely wake her and destroy any chance I have to trick her into trusting me.
So I won't touch her. Simple enough.
Even as I think it, I know it's a lie. Already I'm at her bedside, leaning over to see her closer, scenting the distinct bite of sweet wine on her lips, wishing to taste it from them.
I can't let her know that I'm here. But I can touch her without touching her skin. Deep blonde, wild waves of hair on her pillow call my name, and without any thought attached to the action, I twirl them in my fingers, so soft and smooth I imagine it fisted in my hands, imagine how she might gasp and sigh from the rough treatment.
She doesn't stir, deep in her drunken slumber, and I feel far more daring than I ought. If she were to catch me here, I can only dream of how furious she would be. The thought makes me smile, almost wishing for her to wake up and scream at me.
Soft as a gust of wind, I let my fingertips find her waist, drifting across the fabric that keeps her flesh from me. Even through the nightgown, her body is perfection. Goosebumps rise on her arms, the only proof she can feel my wandering fingers.
She sighs in her sleep, the sound making my head spin and my body fill with desire. I can't remember the last time I felt such hunger, such need. Not a single professional from the Ordinance, not a Syren, no one has ever ignited this inside me.
And she feels it, too. I'm under no impression that she enjoys my company or that she would choose to be stuck in this situation together. But her body responds to mine; that much is undeniable.
