Page 85 of The Chains You Defy

If I didn’t cool down and distract myself, his stupid, ultra-sensitive fae senses would alert him to my filthy musings.

I couldn’t even decide who was worse off. He, who was forced to smell everybody’s desire all the time—on top of all the other, often unpleasant odors—or everyone else who couldn’t indulge in raunchy private fantasies when he was in the vicinity.

Ugh.

With a sigh, I shut out all immoral thoughts and examined the washroom instead.

Of course, every little detail screamed luxury. A giant marble tub dominated one side of the room. The pool was already filled to the brim, luring me closer, and I had to pinch myself to believe that the waterfall flowing into the basin nonstop was real.

I couldn’t resist dipping my hand inside to test the temperature, and to my delight, the water’s warmth was perfect.

Gods, although I’d cleaned myself this morning, I yearned for an extensive bath just as not to miss out in case I’d die later today. Sadly, I suspected Dion wouldn’t grant me the time to appreciate this marvelous masterpiece the way this gem had to be worshiped.

Well, another reason to fight to stay alive at all costs.

Sulking, I wandered over to the smaller washing basin—although calling the bowl small was a major understatement since its expanse could easily double as a decent flat tub for someone normal-sized like me—and observed the area. As with the marble beauty I’d dubbed the love of my life, water streamed perpetually into the basin. Of course, royalty couldn’t be bothered with the inconvenience of opening a tap.

Since my bag was still somewhere in Dion’s suite, I grabbed a glass container filled with liquid soap standing on a crested shelf and lathered some of the mixture between my hands. Instantly, my eyes widened because evergreens and petrichor invaded my nose. Except for the missing remnants of magic, this was almost Dion’s scent.

Once I’d washed and dried my hands, I found a silver hairbrush—encrusted with faceted onyxes and lying on a tray decorated in the same manner—and disentangled my tresses, allowing them to tumble down my back instead of trapping the locks in a braid.

Another tray, gold and ostentatious, inlaid with rubies and sapphires in abundance, contained something suspiciously looking like kohl, as well as some red powder and balm to color cheeks and lips.

Hm. No, Dion wouldn’t use cosmetics. Did he entertain female visitors at the regular?

Fire flared in my chest.

Fine, who he invited to his place overnight was his decision. And I didn’t care even one bit. Yet when he’d told me fae enjoyed their plentiful orgies, I wouldn’t have dreamed that I’d have to lodge in a room regularly hosting those things. If Dion presumed he couldentertain guestswhile I was in the suite, the princeling would better prepare to be confronted with some choice words.

With my anger returned in full force, I snagged the stick of kohl to frame my eyes, and I wasn’t using the product sparingly. To even out any imbalance, I applied some of the powder-balm mixture to my lips, then dabbed more of the loose red dust on my cheeks. Even if I’d still be considered plain next to all the beautiful fae and would be the least noticeable person around, I liked the effect the cosmetics added to my face.

Before I could doubt myself, I left the bathroom behind. Dion was looming near his window. He had his fingers curled into the dark fabric of the drapes and wore the misery he radiated like a heavy cloak. Being home must affect him worse than I’d imagined.

“You’re quite prepared for all kinds of visitors, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean—oh.” Dion canted his head when he suddenly stilled. Only his nostrils flared.

Oh gods, please no. Damn those fae senses.

But his following words surprised me.

“You smell like me.”

“Shouldn’t I have used your soap?”

With inhuman speed, he crossed the space, hauled me into his arms, and buried his nose in the crook of my neck, his breath tickling my skin, transforming into goosebumps. My heart picked up the pace as I was captured in the trap of Dion’s unyielding arms. Was I imagining things, or was his already poor impulse control deteriorating more and more? Or maybe this scent was something fae especially enjoyed?

I yelped when my leg tingled all of a sudden—his magic had joined us as well and was currently attaching itself around my calf, nudging my knee.

“Uhm, Dion—”

“One moment, Naya.”

“Uh, sure. But you’re acting weird again.”

Instead of a reaction that would demonstrate he was an intelligent creature, one of his displeased growls vibrated in his chest.

“Your breath tickles.”