She is boiling spinach again. Her dress was pale green already, darker at the hem and sleeve cuffs because the dye had dripped and settled there when she hung it up. The lace designs were also darker than the rest, as if that material absorbed it better.
Her dinner meal, when complete, filled his home with a fragrance of different vegetables. It didn’t cause his stomach to grumble in hunger, but it gave the house life he could never give it.
“I’ve used the last of the water,” she told him as she placed her food on the table and knelt on the chair to eat.
“Then I will get you more in the morning,” he hastily answered, wanting to make sure she wasn’t without anything she could need.
The stream was only about an hour away, maybe less, and he could be back before she woke.
He wanted to sit with her while she ate, wanted to be close to her, but he placed himself in the large fur-covered chair with armrests in front of the fire instead. His mind, however, didn’t stray from Reia eating, his other senses taking her in since his eyes couldn’t.
It was only when he heard the clanking of her spoon and bowl along with her feet pattering around telling him she was done that Orpheus stood.
“I will prepare your bath,” he told her dully, like he did most nights after she’d eaten.
The colour of her pale cheeks became a shade darker, making him tilt his head because he’d never seen them do that before. They didn’t take long to pale once more after she nodded. He left, grabbing a match from the table to strike it as he walked down the hallway.
He began lighting the candles. Three were cluttered together in the corner of the room on top of a large chunk of amethyst he’d found many years ago in a cave during his wanderings. It was the biggest piece he’d found, and he obtained the rest of the near clear, pure stone many times in his life. Another three candles were on the ground closer to the tub. One larger one was next to where he’d placed the oil he made that barely had any smell to it, but was effective for what he was doing nonetheless.
He threw the match into the metal bowl with dry herbs in it so the area would smell nicer and more relaxing.
She came in not long after he was finished and waited, holding a bundled sleeping gown she’d chosen from her closet to her chest. He tilted his head, twisting it a little, when she looked more nervous than she usually did.
She was acting like the morning after the first night he’d brought her here.
Taking in a deep breath, she stepped inside and closed the door before swiftly removing the dress she’d been wearing throughout the day.
She covered her breasts with one arm and her lower regions with the other as she walked over to the tub he’d already filled with the use of his blood. He didn’t particularly like the spell, but it was the easiest way to fill something of this size without having to go back and forth from the stream, and then the same with heating the water over the hearth.
Orpheus didn’t have any heat or fire magic. This was the only one that allowed him to do it.
Once she’d slipped inside the water, he waited for her to adjust and for her shoulders to relax before he turned to open the jar of oil.
“A-actually,” she said in an odd, high-pitched voice. “Could you not use your gloves?”
Pausing with his fingers about to dip inside the jar, he snapped his head to her in surprise.
“You want to forego for the gloves?”
Squirming, she nodded lightly. “I-I don’t want to do this twice a day anymore. I’m sure it’s not good for my skin.”
He turned his palms upwards to stare down at them, concerned about what she would see beneath them.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Worry filled him as he reached inside the cuff of his shirt to start pulling the hem of one glove down until he removed it. But that wasn’t the only emotion that soared through him. A stronger, more prevalent one began to course as he removed the second. Excitement.
Excitement at touching her skin directly for the first time.
The oil felt cold and wet against his fingertips as he sheathed his claws like he did every time, as not to scratch her delicate skin.
What will she feel like? Was the snowy skin just as soft as he imagined?
The flinch her body gave did little to quell his delight when he ran his hand over her bare, rounded shoulder and discovered she was smoother than any surface he’d ever touched and was silky like that of a flower petal. He wondered if her skin was warmer because of the bath as he slipped over her bicep, digging in to feel the muscle yield against his palms.