Page 13 of These Eternal Bones

Magic Bathwater

Molly

And return he does, the hulking copper-toned bathing tub looking as light as a feather as he hauls it into the small cottage.

The thing is so big it wouldn’t even fit in the bathroom.

Wearing a dry pressed button-down shirt and rolled up sleeves, he makes trip after trip with water.

My eyes glued to his flexing, stone carved arms, the black veining faint on them.

So much so, you’d miss it if you weren’t staring.

And it seems I am…doing a lot of that.

My fingers dance across the tie of the soft plush robe I found in one of the many piles and stacks of gifts.

My permanently soiled bride gown finally where it belongs, shoved deep inside the wood stove, making the cottage roar with heat despite the hole in the roof.

He’s quiet, thoughtful, his pale Adonis form lit by candlelight as he makes trip after trip.

It’s only then that I note he’s not bothering to warm any of the water he’s bringing in.

Where in the weeks I’ve grown quite used to the frigid baths, I’d be lying if I didn’t say my heart dropped slightly.

The cottage was only barely straightened up by the time he’d returned despite my best efforts.

A gasp leaves me as another contraction like cramp rips into my gut, making me pitch, bracing myself on the post of the bed.

He’s there in an instant, ignoring me as I try to push him away.

“Surely this dedication surpasses what is required of an employer.” I grit.

He chuckles, the sound impossibly warm despite his cool hands as they press into my lower back. “Are they always this painful?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I-I had lost track of the weeks. I didn’t–”

“Why must you apologize for something you have no control over? Tell me what you need, and it will be acquired for you.”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment for the hundredth time today.

“The bath is a good start.” I breathe out, finally able to straighten, although it feels as if my vagina is attempting to detach itself from me entirely.

I stand to my full height, still dwarfed by him, my head only coming up to his mid chest. “You can go. I can imagine this is…difficult for you.” The words feel like bile in my throat.

Somehow, addressing the bloody elephant in the room is so much worse.

The sound he makes jerks my attention to him. Again, his sense of personal space is lacking, but I don’t move away as his eyes find mine, keeping them captive once again. “You do not live as long as I have without acquiring a frustrating amount of self-control.”

“W-why is it frustrating?”

“There is such exquisite sensation to be had when one gives in.”

My lips part, and my heart is whooshing in my ears until a voice cuts in, breaking Elric’s hold over me.

“Master, shall I heat her bath now? ”

He sighs, straightening away from me with a single nod, his eyes barely leaving mine until I rip them away, turning toward the small-framed woman as she enters. Her hand sinks into the cold water, a strange static charging the air around us until suddenly, steam rises.

“Please, mistress, tell me if you find this temperature suitable.”

It takes a pregnant second for me to realize she’s referring to me.

“Oh, of course.” I rush out, still reeling from watching magic, actual magic .

I quickly cross the room and plunge my hand inside.

A moan leaves my lips unbidden, making her smile brighten, her pale-colored eyes sparking with pleasure. “It’s perfect.”

“Shall I assist you then, mistress?”

“Assist me?” I ask before it dawns on me. “No, I can–”

She moves quickly, rounding the tub, her hands flying to the knot in my robe. I fumble as it pops free, my hands slamming to my chest to tug the robe back together as I jerk away.

“Enough for tonight.” Elric growls from behind me, his presence growing like a miasma, making the odd woman’s head snap down.

“Of course, it has been a great many years since I have served you. I fear my excitement got the best of me.”

Served me?

“You’re excused.” The command is quiet, but the warning in it is clear, making the woman rear back before fleeing quickly from the cabin.

I spin on Elric; my brows raised in question.

“She is a selkie. A fae creature who finds great pleasure in serving a household. It seems the long years have not been kind to her memory.”

“Oh.” I breathe as if those words don’t rock me to my core. Fae . “She looked so young.” So kind, nothing at all as she should be.

That seems to dissipate his lingering anger. “As do I, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so. H-How old are you? ”

He smirks. “Old enough to have seen every inch of this world…” he trails off as he turns, stepping away from me and giving me his back.

It's only then that he continues to speak, and I realize he’s giving me a chance to get in the water.

Apprehension fills me, reminding me of that first night I bathed in the creek after I’d seen him.

How I’d called out for him to look away, feeling him there as effectively as I could feel the cold.

My stomach gives an odd flutter as I take a steadying breath, only half aware of his words.

“I have watched dynasties fall and rise, syringa. Wars, famine…miracles. I have borne witness to amazing things, and horrible ones.”

I have to stifle a gasp as I sink into the water; the heat sinking into my core as I pull a large bathing cloth over me, hiding my form. “You must have a lot of stories to tell.”

He chuckles with his back still turned to me. I find myself wishing he wasn’t, so I could’ve seen the smile that accompanies it. “I will tell them all to you.”

“That would take a lifetime.”

It’s then that he turns to face me, making me sink deeper into the water, so much so that only my nose sits above it.

My breath disrupting the surface. Even now…

I can feel the call to atone, to be so exposed in front of a man.

He would seethe if he knew. What would Elric think of my scars?

Would he think them an honor to carry like they did, or something terribly shameful?

It was not until the dreadful captain had seen me…

bare that I ever realized what we did was not normal.

What most women were not marked in that way.

That perhaps the scars were not ordained by God at all.

My hand grips the deep green bathing towel, slowly and gently gathering it in my fist. Inching it up until it's dangerously high on my thigh. The lines of my own body look…extra pretty under the water, surrounded by dark tones and candlelight. My heart is hammering wh en I peek up at the man lording over me; he’s gone silent.

First, I see…claws, dark slashes of bone digging into his palms, which is alarming enough but what I see next makes my heart stop, that sensitive little spot on my core throbbing in tune with it; he is large .

The feeling of being…desired is nothing like the first time.

I’m not scared, not even when I meet his eyes, finding the type of hunger that makes men go mad budding there.

But Elric is no man.

He’s more.

So much more.

That restraint he spoke of earlier is what saves us both. His voice deep and…pained? “I’m sure you’re in need of rest. Don’t worry about the tub, the others will empty it tomorrow. Rest, little human. The selkie brought some cloth you might require during your–”

“Thank you, Elric. For everything.” I rush out, having incurred enough embarrassment for the day.

His eyes lose their faraway look as he walks to me, his cool fingers making goosebumps pebble my flesh underneath the water as they trail across my jaw. His tendrils are gone from sight. “Of course, Molly.” It’s the last thing he says before he leaves.

I soak until the water grows cold, my skin soft from the luxurious soaps that smell like flowers.

Long tucked into sheets far too fine for the setting.

I’m thankful for the selkie providing me with cloth for my monthly, although the cramps continue to keep sleep at bay.

The moments when I drift off, it's not the dark woods, or the desert I called home, or nightmares of him that greet me. It’s cold skin, inky eyes, and a voice that makes my pulse jump, waking with a new budding tension where I’d never felt one before.

My dreams are haunted by a vampire, but I could hardly consider them a nightmare.

Elric

The manor is buzzing around me, a constant hum of murmurs and undercurrent of whispers bludgeoning my ears as I stalk the halls, restless again.

Finally, after decades, it’s for an entirely different reason.

Where madness once clouded, doubt and worry, pain and guilt…

now there’s excitement. An anxiety budding deep in my gut, an urgency that never fades.

For me, time is both borrowed and endless, a human life spent in the blink of an eye.

A beautiful soul lost over a dusting of snow in the night.

Her ghost walks beside me, her portraits egging me on as a growl rips through the darkened hall.

Six days.

Six days she turned me away, refused to see me. Her whimpers and groans of pain needling my chest as I lingered, stalking outside the cottage. Only the feel of her evergreen eyes tracking my dark form from outside her window.

Go to her now.

You have to.

You’re running out of time.

The footsteps that approach barely halt my pacing as my tendrils stab and claw at the opulent, cursed walls of my home.

They snap out all at once, bending around the unfortunate creature stupid enough to brave my floor.

It lets out a pained whoosh as I band around its throat, my tendrils squeezing, testing the pressure it would take to pop its head from its neck.

I continue to stalk, dragging the creature with me until another grating voice interrupts.

“Sir, I believe you are killing him.”