Page 85 of Fate's Wicked Oath

When I stepped into the tub, my toes tingled from the heat. The bath salts were dissolving along the bottom of the basin, a fine grit that melted under my feet and made the water feel more buoyant. I sank down with an appreciative groan. Rested myneck on the lip of the tub. Closed my eyes and sighed long and low.

My thoughts rippled and calmed like the surface of the water.

Over the past couple weeks, something had been stirring in me, an animal made of sensation and longing. It craved connection. It yearned for levity and delight. And it wanted…it wantedtouch. As the warmth of the water penetrated my muscles, it came alive, whining within me.

I ignored it, focusing on the tasks of bathing. The pleasant scrape of the wash rag. The citrus scent of the soap. The water tickling along my clavicles.

But the sensation only grew, becoming more ravenous. My nipples tightened as I passed the soap over my breasts and down along the flat muscles of my stomach. My belly tensed, and I could no longer ignore the desire growing inside me.

Perhaps if Idealtwith it, it would go away.

I set the soap on a small stool beside the tub and hung the rag on the lip of the basin. Then my hand was traveling down, slipping between my legs. I let out a soft, involuntary breath. My fingers moved efficiently, purposefully; I wanted to make this quick, to get it over with, so I could feel like myself again. Pleasure coiled, spread, sticky like caramel, and I tipped my head back, eyes fluttering closed.

Unbidden, I thought of Faren toying with my hair in the Lark, torchlight and tenderness and teasing in his eyes. My mind flooded with him—his laugh, his witty remarks, the pastries he got us on our first day together. The scent of his sweat and the thrill of sparring together. Quiet nights by the fire and the way he whistled in the mornings. I thought of his calloused hands, the span of his chest, his parted lips. With a gasp, I—

Knuckles rapped on the door, and I wrenched my hand away, water sloshing.

“Mariana?” Faren was outside our room. “Are you finished?”

Not quite, I thought to myself, panting a little. My body was still taut, desperate for release.

“Mariana?” Faren prompted through the door.

“Don’t come in.”

I was about to chastise him for not giving me enough time to wash, but at some point, the water had become tepid. How long had I been in here, touching myself and thinking abouthim?

“You’ve been in there a while. Need help with your nooks and crannies?” He sounded amused, playful.

I stood, causing the water to slosh. “I’m getting out now, just give me a moment.” There was a dressing gown hanging on the back of the door, and after drying off, I hastened over to it, shrugging into the silken fabric and fastening the tie around my waist.

“If this is a ruse to keep me locked out, I will inform you that I’ve brought food.”

I flipped the lock and yanked the door open. Faren was, indeed, standing outside with a tray of bread, cheese, meats, and sliced fruit. A lone candle sat among the spread, illuminating the space between us.

“You must be hungry,” he said cheerfully.

My body was still flushed all over, blood pulsing.Starving, I thought, and stepped aside to allow him past the threshold. He breezed past me, and I closed the door—sealing us inside. Alone.

He set the tray on the desk, then turned to me, eyes sweeping over my state. “You alright? You appear…flustered.”

“I’m angry to be delayed,” I bit out—more harshly than I meant.

But Faren was immune to my venom. He prepared a small plate with an arrangement of fresh grapes and sliced apples, a fluffy mound of herb-speckled goat cheese, two big slices of sourdough, and a few hunks of sausage. When he was done, heheld it out to me. “Why don’t you have some cheese and then see if you’re still angry?”

I took the plate, scowling, but with the first bite, I discovered that I was, in fact, starving. I sank to the edge of the bed, and he sat in the chair, and we both ate with haste.

“Better?” Faren asked after a while.

I crunched down on an apple slice. “Getting there.”

“Wine?” he offered.

I shook my head; I felt warm and fuzzy enough. It seemed he’d only asked for my sake, because he left the bottle on the desk, unopened.

The room was dim, lit only by the fireplace and the candle Faren had brought. The inn was quiet, and I suspected that Anya and the rest of her associates were still tending to last-minute preparations elsewhere.

“What did you get up to with our hosts?” I asked.