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“What can I say? I’ve picked up bad habits from Torment.”

That grants me a huff of amusement as Valen withdraws a basin and adds various other objects to it that I can’t see. He comes back and summons a small table beside my bath. “Your little name for her is oddly fitting.”

“Careful. You’re being too nice to me. Did Tor not warn you? I’m like a stray dog. I follow anything home with a bone.”

“You do seem to revel in suffering.”

He drags his stool behind my head. He takes another seat, and I tilt back to see him. Carefully, he gathers my hair from the water. The soft brush of his fingers has my heart jumping, and my shoulders shift with the pleasure that threatens to erupt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’d forgotten how unkempt you are when detailing out my instructions. Your hair needs to remain out of the water.” He summons a silver hand mirror and holds it before me. “It stains.”

The ends of my hair are a mix of blue and green pastel. It sets off my tanned skin nicely. “I kind of like it.”

“You’ll like it less when the magic crawls up to your scalp and your hair falls out. Partially bald isn’t a look that would suit you.”

“Fair enough. But what about the hair on the rest of my body?”

“A necessary sacrifice. It’ll grow back.”

I deadpan, “Great.” I tilt my head side to side to admire the temporary hue of my hair. “Look at that. It matches my bruises.”

Valen’s thumb brushes against the mottled green and purple of the magically healing marks along my cheekbone, trailing the pink line where my split-open cheek knit together under his care. My gaze leaves the mirror to meet his. His fingers linger along my jaw.

Movement out of the corner of my eye snags my full attention. I stare at my own reflection in the hand mirror with my heart in my throat. I could swear there was something in there, but maybe I’m wrong and it was just Valen’s hand moving.

Valen releases me to pull the stop on the bath. I go to sit up, but he drags me back down by my hair. My scalp erupts in shivery pleasure and Valen stares down at me.

“I did not say you were done. Stay.”

I couldn’t disobey even if I wanted. His hold on my hair is too tight for even a nod. I swallow down a different kind of aching in my throat. I need to stop that.

I take the hand mirror with me into the water to resubmerge my hand. A little droop of disappointment tugs at the corner of my lips when Valen doesn’t snap at me for damaging the silver with the herbal bath.

The feeling jolts out of me when he takes the basin that he’d brought over and places it in his lap behind me. Hot water pours over my scalp, and I gasp, “What are you doing?”

“Getting the potion out of your hair.”

His blunt nails angle just right so that they scrape against my scalp with each scoop of water from his hands.

I swallow, eyes closing briefly. “By washing it?”

“Obviously.”

The exasperated tone with a hint of condescension dances down my spine. The bath water lowers, the edge of it leaving a tickling sensation as it drags down my smooth, bare skin. The air is cold after such scalding water and my skin prickles, but it’s more than that. My eyes squeeze shut so Valen can’t see how much I enjoy him washing me. My hands flex and tighten, my toes curling. He’s so careful, so quiet as he focuses on his task.

Fuck, if only he would say something, anything to distract me from it. I’d rather bicker than fall into this warm comfort. It makes it too easy to forget why I said no to him in the first place.

The water’s edge tickles my stomach and my muscles contract. Shivers course down my exposed skin in ripples with each scrape of Valen’s nails.

The water is low enough that my hips and legs are exposed, and with them the very obvious reaction to his care. My teeth grind and my nails dig into my palms as my hard cock practically throbs in the cold air. With no more numbing herbs to mute it, a heat wave surges through my body as it wakes up after being numbed, flushing me until I’m shifting with the oddly enjoyable sensation.

My eyes shoot open and I gasp when water hits my chest. Valen leans over me silently, handheld nozzle in one hand and a small, soft cloth in the other. He cleanses the potion from my skin, each swipe taking the lustrous sheen from it.

I swallow, and my voice cracks when I say, “You don’t have to do this.”

He pauses immediately, gaze meeting mine. “Do you not want me to touch you?”