She was entirely naked beyond that door. All he wanted to do was go back in there and wash her himself, to tend to her, to make her smile with dreamy pleasure, to relieve her fears and worries. Except she should be worried and afraid. Even though he was saving her from a greater evil, he was still evil, however lesser. He was losing his mind.
“Jadren?” she called through the still-cracked door.
“What?” He bit out the question, making it short and impatient. “Don’t just stand around, yakking. I can’t get cleaned up until you finish, unless you want me to come in there.”
She was quiet a moment, making him wonder what he’d do if she called his bluff. “Why did you flirt with me so much last night?” she finally asked.
Rolling his eyes to the ceiling—usually decorated with dancing cog wheels and lightning bolts, noting that the house had added arrowheads to the design—he scraped the bottom of his corrupt soul for patience. Flirting, she called it. She claimed not to be a virgin, but her innocence oozed out in her very word choices. She’s mentally and emotionally a child, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time, banishing the image of her sweet womanly sex poised above him, fragrant and emanating tantalizing heat. “I was drunk,” he answered, “and something about being wounded makes me randy. If I was a dog, I’d have humped your leg. It’s not personal.”
His maman had taken advantage of that, he recalled with bleak horror, fighting off another onslaught of things best left forgotten. Those women she’d put in the holding cells with him… He wouldn’t think about it. Going to the brandy, he chugged straight from the carafe, then triggered the Ratsiel bell to call the servants, triggering several times to convey his urgency. As if they could save him.
As if anyone could.
~ 16 ~
Selly took her time playing with the hair and makeup imps. No reason not to, not until Jadren came through with clothing for her. Until then, she was trapped by her nudity in a “bathing chamber” that included no towels to wrap up in. Since there was no tub or other water in evidence, she supposed towels were unnecessary.
All hygiene was handled by elementals. Such a strange world Jadren came from. Nic, too, for that matter, though Jadren’s upbringing had a horrific tenor that put it beyond the pale. She’d learned so much about him since they’d arrived, understood so much more about his mercurial nature, how he could be so kind, so tender one moment, then sardonically cruel and mocking the next.
Thinking about him helped her not think about what would happen to her that day. Bonded to Jadren. That was forever, unless one of them died, no matter his claims of leaving her alone once they got back to House Phel. If they got back to House Phel. Though… perhaps he would come through. If nothing else, Jadren did keep his word—once you sorted through the lies and deflections—and she believed him when he said he’d never wanted a familiar. He didn’t even seem to want a lover. Another way he ran hot and cold, raking her with that avidly sensual gaze one moment, turning his back in calculated indifference the next.
But he did want her, she was sure of that. He’d claimed it was being drunk and the magic…well, she had no idea how magic worked, so that could be true, also. If I was a dog, I’d have humped your leg. It’s not personal. It might not be personal, but he’d touched her with those erotic kisses and caresses, nibbling at her skin like he wanted to devour her.
She’d never experienced anything like it. And she wanted more of it. Having him touch her that way had been the lone bright spot of this entire ordeal. That was fine if it wasn’t her personally, if it was that she was convenient and magically tasty to him, or whatever, but she wanted him to want her. She’d always been good at getting what she wanted. If she had to give up her independence and will to Jadren to survive this, then she wanted a piece of Jadren in return. That was only fair.
Examining her naked body critically in the mirror as the hair imp buzzed around her doing its thing, she could acknowledge its many flaws. She was too skinny, her belly concave, her hipbones jutting out sharply. But her breasts were pretty—Jadren’s black eyes had been glued to them—and he liked her long legs, commenting on them.
Her face was striking enough. She’d always liked that about herself. And the makeup imp turned out to have a setting to repair skin damage, she discovered, upon reading the instructions. Though her skin had begun to clear up with the tapping of all that stagnant magic, scars from the terrible acne had remained. Wizard Asa had done some healing of it, and now the grooming imp did even more to restore a smooth glowing complexion. The makeup covered the rest. When the imp was done, her hair hung in lustrous, glossy dark waves. She would even call herself beautiful, if only in the dubious quiet of her own mind.
It wasn’t much, given her dire situation, but it was something. Jadren was right: she did want to look her best today. For herself and for him. When she was a girl, she’d dreamed about her wedding day, as many of her friends did. Of course, back then she’d imagined a simple, country wedding. In the spring-blossoming orchards, perhaps, and she’d wear a lovely gown and carry a bouquet her father picked for her. Today wouldn’t be anything like that—probably the polar opposite—but this might be as close as she’d ever get. She didn’t think familiars married anyone but their wizard masters.
And she was secretly happy that it would be Jadren. Even if he was only doing this to save her from a worse fate, that still meant something. He cared about her enough to make that sacrifice, no matter how he tried to divert her attention from that with his sarcasm. If she had to be bonded to him, which she’d begun to accept as an inevitability, then she wanted all of him. She’d have Jadren as a lover, if only once. He owed her that much. Meeting her own gaze in the mirror, she nodded at herself. She didn’t have a lot of sexual experience, but Jadren shouldn’t be difficult to seduce. Especially now that she knew how to get to him.
“Seliah,” Jadren called through the door, then cracked it wider and thrust an arm inside, waggling a silky robe at her. “Clothing has arrived. Try not to destroy the robe before you can get dressed in what they brought.”
Suppressing a snicker at his dry humor, she snatched the robe and put it on. Swiftly belting it, she flung the door open. “Your turn,” she sang out, gesturing grandly at the bathing chamber.
Jadren eyed her warily. “Why are you so perky all of a sudden?”
Because I’m going to have really good sex later today, she thought, giving him a sly smile. “Feels good to be clean,” she said aloud.
He grunted, looking her up and down, expression carefully neutral. “You certainly look less like a murder victim. Oh, wait—that’s me.”
“Nearly dead is the key phrase,” she reminded him, tossing his earlier words back in his face.
“Assault victim, then,” he grumbled, stalking into the bathing chamber, but not before she caught the glimmer of laughter in his wizard-black eyes. Not many people would so easily forgive a murder attempt. Jadren was simply that sort—probably because he’d done just as bad or worse. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “And eat something. Not necessarily in that order, but no dawdling. Ceremony is in an hour.”
With that he slammed the door shut. Someone was certainly in a mood. Food was laid out in the adjoining sitting room, showing signs of Jadren having had at it. She wasn’t really hungry, her stomach tight with nerves, but she made herself eat, knowing Jadren would badger her about it if she didn’t. Seeing a bowl of fresh raspberries among the offerings, she smiled, deeply touched by knowing Jadren had thought of her. His actions revealed far more than his insults.
He emerged not long after, fully dressed and looking like his usual sharply groomed self—except for the lurking, haunted shadows in his face. He wore tailored black clothing, from his glossy, knee-high boots to the high-collared black jacket buckled over a silk shirt. The points of the collar stood up, giving him a dashing, dangerous look, and the coat boasted epaulettes with glittering lightning bolts forking over the repeating House El-Adrel crest.
“You look nice,” she offered.
“Nothing but the best for our bonding day,” he replied with dry sarcasm, his acute black gaze going to her half-empty plate. “Eat more than that.”
“I already ate all of this,” she protested, indicating the space with her utensil. “You don’t want me puking all over your mother during the ceremony, do you?”
His mouth twitched into a wry, half-smile. “The image carries a certain appeal.” His gaze softened, roving over her, and he lifted a hand as if to touch her hair before he dropped it. “It’s a pity about your hair—it’s really beautiful long.”
