Sorayah stood still, her gaze fixed on the dagger Dimitri had thrown at her feet. No matter how much she wished to plunge it into his chest and end his existence, she couldn't at least, not now.
Taking a deep breath, she schooled her expression into one of indifference. "I'll go get so hot water and dicine from the kitchen," she said, offering a slight bow before turning to leave.
But before she could take a step, Liam strode into the room, carrying a bowl of steaming water with cotton already soaked inside. In his other hand, he held a leather pouch filled with dicinal herbs.
"Everything is here," Liam announced, his tone clipped as he placed the bowl and dicine on the table with a loud thud. His sharp gaze flicked to Sorayah, a barely restrained fire burning in his eyes. "Just clean my lord's wound or, if you prefer, you can call the doctor. But if that happens..." He paused, his expression darkening. "I don't think you'll be able to keep your head much longer."
With that ominous statent hanging in the air, he turned on his heel and left without another word.
Sorayah frowned after him. What's wrong with him? His anger was palpable, but was it truly directed at her? He had stood by the door the entire ti, watching his master about to violate her till he got stabbed by her, yet he hadn't intervened.
"Are you going to keep standing there?" Dimitri's deep, commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Or have you still not learned your duty as my personal maid?"
Sorayah's jaw clenched. She turned to him, eting his gaze with barely veiled irritation. "Do you realize I'm not a doctor?" she countered, gesturing toward the herbs. "How am I supposed to know which ones to use? There's an entire assortnt here, and unless you expect to magically develop dical expertise overnight...."
"Liam is well-versed in dicine. Every herb he brought is exactly what I need," Dimitri interrupted, his tone dismissive. "So are to be applied directly, others need to be boiled, and a few are for soaking. You'll find a small stove in the corner of the room use it."
Sorayah scoffed, crossing her arms. "The ones for bathing too? Didn't you just get stabbed? Why in the world do you need all these?"
Dimitri's gaze sharpened. "Would you like to be stabbed and see if you can still stand there questioning ?" His voice was calm, but there was a quiet warning laced beneath his words.
Sorayah swallowed, unsure whether to take the threat seriously.
"These herbs aren't just for the stab wound," he continued, his tone shifting to sothing more nonchalant. "Like I've said before, I have function to attend at the palace, and the rest are ant to enhance strength, focus, and everything else a man needs." He flicked his fingers impatiently. "Now, get to work."
Sorayah's fingers curled into fists at her sides, but she held her tongue. Instead, she stepped toward him and grasped the edges of his bloodstained shirt. Without sparing him a glance, she began unbuttoning it, her fingers working quickly.
Only when the last button ca undone did she finally lift her eyes to assess the wound.
A sharp gasp left her lips.
The cut was deep far deeper than she had expected. Blood still oozed slightly from where the blade had pierced him, the gash wide and angry. She had seen him drive the dagger further into his own flesh as if to test himself, and now the evidence of his madness lay bare before her.
But then, he's a werewolf. The wound is going to heal eventually and wouldn't leave a mark just as other injuries sustained from wars had healed leaving his skin scarless.
She quickly turned her attention back to the task at hand.
Dipping the cotton into the warm water, she squeezed out the excess liquid before pressing it against his wound. Blood sared across his skin as she carefully wiped away the crimson, revealing the raw, gaping cut beneath.
Reaching for the herb pouch, she read the instructions scrawled onto the fabric. Selecting the correct mixture, she poured it directly onto the wound, bracing herself for his reaction. She knew from experience that these dicinal herbs had a potent sting, capable of searing flesh with their intensity.
But Dimitri didn't even flinch.
Not a single twitch. Not a single sign of discomfort.
Of course. He's a werewolf, Sorayah reminded herself, watching as his body instinctively absorbed the dicine, the wound reacting to the potent mixture.
"Ti for the dicinal bath," Dimitri announced, rising to his feet with ease, as if he hadn't just been stabbed.
Sorayah instinctively stepped back, nearly stumbling from how suddenly he moved.
"You can bandage the wound after the bath," he added before turning and gathering the herbs.
Then, without looking back, he strode toward an adjoining chamber within his quarters.
"Follow ," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argunt.
Sorayah hesitated for a mont, then let out a breath and followed him inside.
~°°~
It wasn't just a bathhouse, it was a masterpiece. A large pool of water shimred beneath cascading falls, where clear streams poured from the mouth of jagged rocks into the deep basin below. Sunlight filtered through intricate carvings in the stone ceiling, casting golden reflections onto the water's surface. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and potent herbs, the steam rising in lazy tendrils around them.
To the side, a separate tub sat, its water already heated and steaming, waiting for the dicinal herbs to be added.
Dimitri walked toward the tub without a word, opening the pouch and pouring the crushed mixture into the water. The scent intensified imdiately, sharp and herbal, filling Sorayah's lungs. Before she could process what was happening, Dimitri reached for his short and, without hesitation, pulled it down.
The sudden movent caught her completely off guard.
Her breath hitched as her gaze instinctively dipped only to land on sothing she had absolutely no business staring at.
Dear gods.
For a split second, her mind betrayed her, wondering just how much larger it would beco once fully erect. Heat surged up her neck, mortification slamming into her chest like a hamr. But before the thought could settle, she snapped her head away, ntally burying it in the deepest pit of her mind.
What the hell is wrong with ?!
The soft splash of water echoed behind her as Dimitri stepped into the bath, settling in with an exhale. Sorayah kept her back to him, standing stiffly, arms crossed, determined not to turn around.
Then ca his voice. Deep, commanding, and laced with impatience.
"Do I have to tell you what to do every ti?"
A sharp chill danced down Sorayah's spine.
"Bathe ."
Sorayah's body went rigid. "Huh?" The word left her mouth before she could stop it, her eyes going wide in disbelief.
Dimitri's tone darkened. "Are you deaf? Just because I said I find you interesting doesn't an I can't get rid of you if you keep defying ."
The casual way he threatened her sent a new wave of anger crashing over her.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to turn around. Keeping her gaze strictly above his shoulders, she picked up the wooden ladle and scooped the warm dicinal water. Without a word, she poured it over his shoulders, watching as the droplets traced the hard lines of his muscles.
Not once did she et his eyes.
That was her first mistake.
Dimitri's patience snapped.
Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward.
With a startled cry, Sorayah lost her balance. Before she could catch herself, she tumbled straight into the bath, water splashing violently around them.
Her clothes clung to her instantly, the fabric growing heavy as it absorbed the heat.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she spat, eyes burning with outrage. "Why did you pull in?"
Dimitri leaned back lazily, completely unbothered by her fury. His piercing eyes, half-lidded with amusent and irritation, raked over her wet form.
"Because that's how you're supposed to bathe ." His voice was cool, matter-of-fact.
Sorayah's mouth fell open.
"How dare you turn your gaze away while tending to ?" His voice was sharp now, filled with the arrogance only a man like him could possess. "If you're going to wash , then do it properly. I cherish my bath ti. I won't tolerate incompetence."
His next action made her seethe.
Reaching over, he picked up a sponge and tossed it at her.
"Now, scrub every inch of . And open your damn eyes while doing it."
The nerve. The absolute nerve.
Sorayah sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the sponge as pure, undiluted fury surged through her veins. She wanted to throw it right back at his face. She wanted to strangle him, drown him, anything to just stop him from talking.
Instead, she dug the sponge into his skin with far more force than necessary.
"Tch," Dimitri exhaled, closing his eyes, completely unaffected.
Sorayah gritted her teeth, scrubbing harder.
What is he? A damn baby that needs to be bathed?!
She wanted to peel his skin off with the damn sponge.
The tension in the air thickened as she worked, her jaw set, her hands moving roughly over his chest and shoulders. The heat from the water did nothing to soothe her anger, it only seed to stoke it.
Then, just as she was getting into a rhythm, Dimitri spoke again.
"This bath requires both genders to be in the sa water, fully bare. It enhances the potency of the herbs."
Sorayah froze, her entire body stiffening.
Dimitri smirked at her reaction. "But," he continued, "since your body doesn't interest , you can remain clothed."
Sothing inside Sorayah snapped.
Her grip on the sponge tightened as she imagined beating him to death with it.
Oh, my gods. Could he not go one second without insulting her?
The worst part?
She was actually relieved.
Good. Stay uninterested, you insufferable beast.
Grinding her teeth, she resud scrubbing. Dimitri remained still, resting his arms on the sides of the tub, his expression unreadable.
The water sloshed softly between them.
Then.....
"How dare you, you lowly maid!!!"
The furious voice cut through the thick, steamy air, shattering the mont.
Reviews
All reviews (0)