Page 9 of Sapphires and Snakes

“Tamayo, god damn it.” She rolls her eyes with a huff, arms about to fall from my waist. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure, so either kiss me or?—”

I duck down and capture her mouth before she can finish her sentence. The kiss is soft, lips pressing together for the space of two heartbeats. I don’t want to push, want to let Zarina set the pace. And she does. She turns me in her grasp, digging her nails into my ribs and pulling me closer for another kiss, hungrier than the first. I find her hips and rest my hands there, not wanting to grip and grapple like I normally might.

And then Zarina’s hands travel down my back and tease the top of my ass.

I break the kiss, resting my forehead against Zarina’s and breathing heavy. “Careful, princess.”

“Why?” She bites her bottom lip.

I nudge my nose against hers. “You keep it up and I’ll think you want more than a kiss.”

Zarina cocks her head, lets her touch slip lower to grasp a handful of cheek. “That’s exactly what I want.”

I cup her face between my hands. We are bare, and I can’t fuck this up. “You were almost kidnapped.”

“And forcibly married,” she adds.

I swipe a thumb across her cheekbone. “Don’t you want to sleep?”

“I want to release this adrenaline and tension.” Her hands leave my back to grip my wrists, like she’s begging. “I want to feel safe.”

I can’t help but furrow my brow, bewildered. “I make you feel safe?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Don’t be cheesy.”

Warmth floods my chest and tries to leak out of me into a fond smile, but I tamp it down. Because she didn’t deny it. The warmth spreads to my cheeks, instead, and even if I’mnot smiling, I might be glowing. “What exactly do you want, princess?”

Zarina bites her lip, thinking. “I want soft. Wanna feel precious.”

I hum and press a kiss to her forehead. “You are precious.”

She breathes through her nose, eyes closed, as if she’s pulling the words inside herself. “Show me.”

I reach past her to switch off the water. “Don’t move.” Quickly, I hop out of the shower and snag a towel out of the warmer, wrapping Zarina in it. Only then do I grab one for myself, scrubbing my hair with it quickly before I tie it around my waist. In the small closet, I yank a fluffy robe off its hanger. I hold it open for her. “Princess wants to be treated like a princess, hm?”

Zarina looks from the robe to me, a small smile flickering over her lips. “That’s right.”

“Come on, then.” I shake the robe a little, and she smiles fully. She drops her towel to the floor and threads her arms into the sleeves, turning on her heel as I settle it over her shoulders. Mine drag down her arms, my bare chest brushing the soft fabric over her back, and I slip my hands around her waist to tie the belt closed. Zarina sighs, her body drooping, and all the things I want come rushing back.

I walk her over to the vanity, my chest to her back, and press a kiss to her hair before leaving her for a moment to grab the things I’ll need—a hairbrush, my jade roller, and a handful of serums and moisturizers. When everything’s on the counter, Zarina picks up a few of the bottles to read them.

She chuckles, the sound vibrating in her chest. “No wonder your skin glows.”

I shoot her a roguish grin through the mirror. “It can’t be my good, Filipina genes?”

The laugh fully escapes her chest. “I’m sure they help.”

“Can I brush your hair?” I ask. She nods, and I pull it out from under her collar and let it fall down her back, starting from the ends. Zarina’s quiet, her eyes closed again, body relaxed, and I can’t help but marvel at the contrast between her now and her before. Even after the Council meeting, when she asked for comfort after Marcus’s first assault, there was a wall. And every moment since then has felt the same. We’ve been intimate, but haven’t had intimacy.

And now, though it may not be a full dismantling of her defenses, she’s asked me to take care of her. One of the few people who makes her feel safe, who allows her to be soft and sweet without finding her weak. And this time, I don’t need to tear down each wall by force before she submits.

I weave her hair into a loose braid, trying to keep it out of the way more than anything. Zarina hums with her eyes still closed, her mouth shaped into a soft smile of content. I have to steal a bracing breath lest my heart skip too many beats at the sight. Gently, I turn her around to face me and lift her onto the counter. She releases a small gasp, and I linger for a too-long second before brushing a straggling hair off her face and reaching for the skincare and jade roller.

We don’t speak as I apply toner, serums, and lotion. Her hands start out resting on my hips for balance, her spine and neck barely holding her upright. With each new product, her fingers wander lower. First, her thumbs brush the skin under the towel at my waist, where my hip bones press against her legs. When I lean past her to switch bottles, her touch finds another new, unexplored valley of my body. My navel, and then my ribs, then the side of my breast. Her eyes might be closed, but she knows what she’s doing. And even though I know, too, I struggle to focus on the serums falling from the dropper, on my hand rolling each into her skin.

And when Zarina’s fingers trace the knobs of my spine down to the dimples above my ass to then slip under the towel to cup my cheeks with both hands, I may or may not almost drop the roller to the tile floor.

“Princess.” My voice is fond annoyance.