AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thank you,” she mumbled and picked her way across the fine woven rugs to the room. Inside was a wide, deep bowl big enough to sit in. She glanced at it, cocking her head. “Is there a bucket of water anywhere? I-I don’t mind if it’s cold.” She had washed with far worse.
Dimitrius scoffed. “Nonsense.” He strode in and turned a metal protrusion above the basin. To Harper’s surprise, water gushed out, billowing steam. Another turn of another metal knob, and cold water flooded out. Both streams swirled together in the huge space.
He laughed at her evident surprise. “So you do not have running water in your corner of Caledan?”
She shook her head. Something hot and seething spiked at the way he provoked her shame so easily. He uncorked a large bottle and poured in a stream of liquid that erupted into bubbles when it hit the churning water. It filled the air with the delicious scent of… him, she realised. Horror swept away the more pressing fear that had remained a permanent undercurrent for so long. Dimitrius gestured to the water, and once more that inscrutable dark gaze met hers, and she could glean nothing from it.
“Enjoy.” His tone was genuine, not a joke at her expense, but she eyed him suspiciously nonetheless. After a moment, she forced her hackles down. He was powerful and an ally for now. She needed to find out what he wanted—and where the stone had gone. It was all the leverage she had.
Soon, the basin was almost full of warm water. Dimitrius had fetched her a linen sheet to dry herself, a soft scrub to wash with, and a set of fresh clothes to change into—though she noted they were men’s and would not fit her.
“I’ll leave you to your bath,” he said and backed away. She watched him still, her brows furrowed. “There’s a lock on the door. I won’t come in. Believe me, I’m not interested,” he said flatly. She did not answer. “If you’re worried I’m going to harm you, I would have done it already. Bathe, then we can eat—and talk. We have much to discuss.”
Unease curled in her belly at that promise. She had no idea what his agenda was—but he was dangerous. Did she really want to be naked in a bath on the other side of what seemed a flimsy door when compared to what she had seen of his power?
“Hurry up. I’m famished.” He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
She swallowed. She would take the chance. Harper scurried to bolt the door, though it felt like a meaningless protection. The mechanism was frail in the face of his power. Yet, she reasoned he was right. If he had meant to hurt her, he would have done it already. Her gut—and her nose—made the decision for her.
It was hard not to gag as she peeled the wet, stinking clothes from her body and piled them upon the stone floor, wishing she could burn them. For the first time, she had enough light to examine herself. It was an appalling sight, and not one she enjoyed. Between the bruises and the dirt, there was barely a clear inch of skin.
She hurried to the bath and sank into it, moaning with relief at the warmth that flooded over her. After a minute, she fetched the scrub and attacked herself with it, scrubbing furiously until every inch of her skin was red, wincing with every stroke. Soon, the clear water was brown, but her skin was gloriously clean. To her dismay, a variety of bruises, most of which she could not recall receiving, mottled her legs, arms and torso.
She rubbed the soap over her skin, emitting a moan of comfort at how good it felt to be clean, and the delicious scent it exuded. She stilled at a realisation. The soap smelled like him—some kind of sweet, sharp fruit she had not encountered before—and now she would too. She put down the soap at once. That thought was all too uncomfortable. To associate such sensory pleasure with him. She had hated him only hours before. Harper frowned. Did she still hate him? She had no reason not to, but he had saved her from torture, or worse. If she had learned nothing else from her time with Aedon and his companions, she had learned that not all was as it seemed and first impressions often did not stand.
It was all too much. She stood in a rush. Water sluiced down her, a river running between her breasts and down her belly from the wet hair plastered to her shoulders. She wrung it out and clambered from the bath, snagging the towel. She had to suppress another moan as the soft fabric enveloped her. This was luxury. Pure luxury. She would enjoy it for the moments she could. Taking an extra few moments to dry herself, she breathed deeply, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on her bare skin, before donning the clothes.
Harper could not help laughing. They were far too large—comically so. The shoulders sat too broad, causing the sleeves to cover her hands, and the trousers both too wide for her slim waist and too long for her legs. They sagged at her hips instead and trailed at her feet. She rolled up the sleeves and trousers with a sigh, and turned to the digusting pile of dirty garments at her feet. She dumped them into the bath and scrubbed them as best she could, wringing them out. They were not pristine by any measure, but they were better. She would take that.
“Hello?” she called through the bathroom door.
“Hmm?” came the muffled reply from the other side, some distance beyond the door.
Harper’s stomach churned. Had he been listening? Had she actually moaned with bliss at any point? Her cheeks burned again, damn it. “I don’t know how to make the water go away.”
Harper heard his fingers snap, and gasped as the filthy water vanished. She swallowed. Both an amazing feat and a reminder of the power and danger Dimitrius bore. He had been kind to her—she was washed and about to be fed—but that did not mean she ought to trust him, she reminded herself. She had learned that lesson the hard way, with Aedon and his companions. The knife in her gut twisted as she thought how they had betrayed her, and, in a way, she them. She steeled her resolve, raised her chin, and unbolted the door.
Dimitrius reclined on a couch before the fire, one arm slung over the side, one leg crossed over the other, and a book in hand, his brow lightly furrowed as he read. The picture of relaxed ease. His jacket was gone, slung over a nearby armrest, and under it he wore a shirt of pale smoke with the top buttons undone. Her gaze fell to his open neckline. It revealed the deep curve of his neck as it joined his shoulders and hinted at the muscle on his chest. Dark tattoos crept up the side of his neck, now revealed by the open fabric. Harper snapped her attention back to his face as he chuckled at her.
“Well, don’t you look a charm. Come. I waited for you.” She followed him through carved wooden doors to a table big enough for six. He pulled out a chair and gestured to it. She sat, acutely aware of his presence so close behind her, and allowed him to tuck her in. He sat opposite, so close her feet could reach him if she stretched her legs.
Between them lay a veritable feast, and her tongue hurt as she salivated for it. She stared. Cold, cooked meats, cheeses, green leaves, breads, and other assorted foods she had never seen before were piled high on fine crockery. So much. So fresh. She’d never seen anything like it, such an abundance of food, and so fine. Was she permitted to eat? She fisted her hands together under the table. Waiting for him to make the first move.
“You can eat it, you know,” said Dimitrius, leaning over the table to scoop food onto his plate. “It won’t poison you.”
Harper chose a few things, but he tutted. “For goodness sake, you’re going to starve. Eat more, please.” He gestured at the plates, then pushed back his chair and stood, striding around to lean over her shoulder. This close, her breath caught. The air moved against her cheek, her neck, her hands, as he leaned over her plate and piled it high from the serving dishes. “There. Better. I will not have you starving.”
And then he was gone, slipping back into his chair and tucking into his food as though nothing had happened. As though he had not repeatedly attacked her companions. As though he had not just rescued her from a hellhole. As though they were casual dining acquaintances enjoying a meal together.
Harper had no idea what to make of it—or of him. She picked up a fork, holding it awkwardly. The metal implement gleamed. Metal was saved for weapons, not eating implements, in Caledan—the best she had used was a wooden spoon and her hunting knife. She used the fork to stab a mouthful of ham and cheeses and filled her mouth. Who knew when she would get another meal?
She was clean, and now she could feed—she decided to make the most of it whilst she could. It would make her stronger for whatever came next. She savoured every bite, trying not to think about that. It was the finest food of her life. Spiced cheeses, breads made with honey and herbs, cured and smoked meats cut wafer thin. Her tongue burst with the intense flavours of each fresh mouthful. Was this what it was like to be rich? She turned away from the bitterness of that thought—it was too much to face alongside everything else. She could not restrain herself. After so long without, Harper ate and ate and ate until she could eat no more, then sat back in her chair with a groan.
“Enjoyable?”
“The nicest meal I’ve ever had.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, but Harper forced any hint of a smile from her face. He was still an enemy. She remained a prisoner. She would not fall for the charm of a free meal or a safe bed again. His own smile faded with her dourness.
“To business then,” he said with a brittle tone that made shivers crawl up her spine and alighted the fear curled in her stomach once more. “If you do exactly as I say, Harper, you might make it out alive.”
