Page 70 of Elysian

Cassiel whipped his head up. The animal’s red blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

Shock rose and drowned the rousing pity he’d spawned. Before me—with inhuman eyes and a snarl on his mouth—was a creature feasting on prey.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Loathing

Cassiel frowned, scanning my face. The feline thrashed under his hold.

“Do not kill it,” I blurted.

Cassiel looked down at the mountain lion still in his grip, the whites of the eyes showing.

“I will not kill it,” he said slowly, still eyeing me. “May I finish feeding?” His eyebrow raised, and he watched me with his head tilted.

“Ah.” I cleared my throat and turned my back to him. “I will be inside.” Scrunching the bottom of my dress, I retreated the way I came. It didn’t take me long to return to the bedchamber. I practically bolted as soon as I was far enough away from him.

Well, that explained his absence; he had been hunting. It seemed he had done so before. I shut the door to the chamber. A small, very tiny piece of me felt offended that he had not fed on me. It was a fact that sank heavily in my stomach.

I could not fathom why. The bed creaked as I slumped atop it again, curling onto my side. My pulse calmed in increments. It wasn’t until moonlight speared through the curtains that I realized how long I had been lying here. Perhaps he still believed my blood was poisoned, but that was impossible. Drusilla made it clear that it faded . . .

I should have thought to find the gas lamps before darkness fell. A yawn encroached, and I tugged the blanket to my shoulders. The smell of dust clung to me, but it was an issue I would deal with in the morn. If the waterworks were not functioning, I would take a dip in that pond.

My mind wandered as the comfort of the bed dragged me into a restful state.

Such comfort had not touched my body in ages. I did not even mind that guts, dirt, and gore smeared across the bed.

A bath would be lovely, but I was just much too tired to move. I dozed. I had nearly lost consciousness when the door creaked.

Footsteps approached. “I have prepared a bath for you.”

“Once dawnlight comes,” I mumbled.

Cassiel gathered me against his chest.

I groaned, but my eyelids wouldn’t be pried open. His smell of leather and ink filled my nose, accompanied by a damp cleanliness. I searched for the source, and my nose grazed his bare chest. Cassiel had bathed.

“Put me down,” I mumbled against his soft skin.

‘Settle.’

Tension leaked from my limbs as my body reacted to his presence. I sighed and let myself rest against him, my eyes falling closed.

Cassiel finally slowed and lowered me, plopping me on the edge of a cushion. I pried my eyes open. He’d brought me to the bathing chamber. It was simple with a tub full of fresh water running through the pipes. Steam came off the top. A small chestnut table stood beside the tub.

I rested my hands on the cushion I sat upon. It seemed that all the furnishings were covered with the same cloth design.

He crouched, and still, his head hovered near mine. The Warlord was so blasted tall. With a careful touch, he pulled off my slippers, setting them aside carefully. Then he stood, stepped around the stool he’d placed me on and began to unlace the messy knot I tied at my back. Bit by bit, the slight ribbing at the sides of the torso of the dress loosened.

“Go, I will bathe myself.”

He did not give me a response, finishing with the final of the stays. I stood and tugged the dress off, letting it pool on the ground. I extricated myself from his touch, went to the tub myself, and slipped under the warmth.

He hovered near, his chest fully on display. I pointedly studied the clear water. He seemed to have filled it with fresh water as there were no bubbles or suds.

“Lean forward,” Cassiel ordered.

I held my hand out for the soap. Instead of handing it to me, his hand clasped my shoulder and forcibly pushed me.