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How did I even think that I could survive the ocean when my fingers are so numb and stiff right now? I can’t see them in the dark but I bet they’re blue from the cold. This throws me back to that time in the winter months in Astefar. Blaire told me my fingers will fall down like icicles once I stop feeling anything in them. I shake my head from the memory.
I rub my hands together harder and blow my breath to warm them up.
Relief sweeps through me when Svenn returns.
He takes my hand and leads me out of the door to the open air. We move along the roofed terrace lined with tall black windows past a desiccated garden. My eyes roam over the foreign estate, memorizing my escape routes silently. Svenn pushes the double swing door that opens to a smaller courtyard. I recognize the familiar outdoor shower area designed to wash off seawater after a swim.
I can hardly focus on anything else when I see a large tub wafting steam.
“The freshwater pipe is still working. I’ve drawn the bath for you,” he says, testing the water on his skin before ushering me in. I slide into the tub without hesitation.
A sigh of relief escapes my lips at the contact with the lukewarm water. I wiggle my toes and immerse myself until my breast is partially covered.
Svenn kneels down next to the tub. “Give me your hands.”
I can’t help but do as I am told when he uses that voice. Vampire compulsions don’t work on elves. It has to be something else then.
I watch silently as he stretches my stiff fingers in the water, handling me like I’m the most delicate thing in the world.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod.
He sounds and feels like he’s my Svenn now. So concerned, so gentle. Maybe the cold seawater has awakened him from his trance.
Once color returns to my skin, he leaves me to my own devices. I reach for the washcloth and soap prepared at the side of the tub.
Svenn leans on the granite pillar with his arms crossed, the mighty wings tucked in tight to his powerful body.
“Are you going to stand there and watch?” I ask as soon as the clanking of my teeth stops.
He arches a brow. “I said I’m keeping you.”
He’s still a jerk, I see.
“You also said I can have private time,” I reason with him.
“You lost that privilege when you jumped from the cliff.” His voice goes hard. “You’re a risk.”
He makes no effort to move from his spot.
Goosebumps erupt from my skin over his penetrating gaze. I should not be reacting this way to him, not when he just told he wants to imprison me in this place forever.
Fine. I’ll give him a show.The bold part of me decides for a striptease. But the clever part of me, the one who survived Astefar, chooses to turn my back from him and remove my gown carefully.
I run the washcloth over my neck, achingly aware that he is watching every movement. I wonder if the soap and hair wash belong to the previous inhabitants of the lighthouse. Hopefully they won’t mind the extensive amount I lather on my body. I use some to wash my nightgown too.
After a while, I hear a flutter of wings from behind me. Maybe Svenn has finally decided to leave me alone.
I squeeze every last drop of water from my dress and bundle it into a ball. Dread fills me at the thought of having to wear this damp nightgown again. I don’t even have anything to dry myself with.
I feel his presence before I see him. I glance back to find Svenn standing tall across the courtyard. His wings are gone now but it doesn’t make his presence any less intimidating. He is dressed just as I had seen him last, in his black tunic and leather, but unlike me, he is dry.
My lips purse in envy. “Can you lend me some clothes?”
“I have none to spare,” he says.
I sigh out my disappointment at that. Looks like the damp nightgown it is.
