Water dripped from me as I entered the unfamiliar bedchamber. I dried off hastily, my mind a mess as I went to the wardrobe. I searched until I found a suitable shirt. There was no way I could put that nightgown back on. I was going to have to burn it. Maybe the cloak too— something I would’ve never considered during my time before Archwood. Bloody. Soiled. It hadn’t mattered. Clothing had simply been clothing.
The shirt I pulled out was soft and worn, reaching my knees. It was completely inappropriate to be dressed as such, but it was shapeless and provided the same amount of coverage as the nightgown I had worn and half of my gowns. And besides, I had just been completely nude.
I just . . . just felt different.
As did the near-raw reaction to him— my want of him. It was entirely too animalistic, too primal.
Rooting around in the wardrobe, I found a pair of clean breeches that looked like they could fit the Lord. I pulled them out and another shirt, this one white, draping both over the corner of the bed.
Hearing the water turn off, I tugged the loose strands of hair free from the collar of the shirt. Making my way to the small table, I turned on the lamp and then poured a glass of water for him and one for myself. I downed the liquid, but it was of no help in calming my heart or nerves. I sat on the edge of the bed, thinking I probably should’ve taken the time to bolt.
I had no idea what time it was, but the city streets outside the home were quiet. Morning must be only hours away. I touched the bridge of my nose and winced at the flare of dull pain. How was I going to explain this?
Hearing the bathing chamber open, I lowered my hand to my lap. “There is water on the table,” I told him. “I poured you a glass and found you some clothing that might fit.”
“Appreciated.”
I peeked up then, my gaze traveling over the corded muscles of his back as he walked toward the cupboard. He wore nothing more than the towel wrapped around his hips, and that was, well, simply indecent in the most delicious way I certainly wasn’t acknowledging.
The Lord was silent as he drank the water, filled a third glass, and finished that off too. That was good— him drinking so much water. I watched him place the glass on the table, then turn for the clothing. He picked up the black breeches.
“These will do,” he said.
“Good.”
He undid the towel, and I quickly looked away, face warming despite all that I’d said. When I was sure he was at least partially clothed, I glanced over to find that he had donned the breeches. They were loose at his waist, hanging low on his hips.
I blinked in surprise. The wounds on his arms and in his chest appeared to be almost gone. I looked up at his face. The faint traces of bruises that had remained while he’d been in the shower were completely gone. A tingling sensation swept through me as I took in the Lord’s high, angled cheekbones and the straight, proud nose. His jaw cut a hard, carved line, and his mouth was wide and lush. There was a faint, almost feline quality to his features now visible without the bruising. It was like looking at a work of art that one feared to appreciate because the beauty was unsettling.
“Your wounds,” I managed.
“They’re healing,” he answered. His hair was slicked back from his face. “Thanks to you.”
There was an unsteady flutter in my chest. “I didn’t do much.”
He eyed me for a moment. “Do you know why Hyhborn have such a sensual effect on mortals?”
His question caught me off guard, and it took me a moment to answer. “I know some . . . things about what helps strengthen a Hyhborn.”
One side of his lips curved up. “And do these things you know involve pleasure?”
“I know that Hyhborn . . .” I struggled to find an accurate word to describe what I’d heard.
The Lord, however, did not. “Feed?”
I nodded, feeling my skin warm a bit. “I’m not sure how I’ve been of aid to you in that area.”
“Na’laa,” he murmured, chuckling. “You found great pleasure in aiding me in the shower. Not that you are unaware of that.”
Snapping my mouth shut, I looked away. I wasn’t unaware of that. I’d just forgotten in the moment that my pleasure in the simple act of touching him was something that could help him.
“We don’t just feed on the pleasure of others,” he added after a moment. “We also feed on our own pleasure. I too enjoyed the shower.”
I peeked at him, for some idiotic reason pleased that he’d enjoyed it.
“But you did even more than you realize,” he continued. “You saved lives tonight.”