with my finger, and the design glowed as though some radioactive fluid were flowing just beneath its surface.
“Your prison,” I concluded, and he grunted again. Another slave to Azrael’s Imperium. “Can you speak? Are my friends okay?”
He huffed with indifference. Not a friendly noise. But he couldn’t have made off with me and fought you without signs of injury, right? I assessed him again. He seemed sympathetic, so I pointed to the metal band around my ankle. “Will you take this off?”
Ashur shook his head.
He rose and I backed away, until my shoulder blades met with the sharp rock wall. He approached slowly, like he didn’t want to frighten me, and collected my goblet. When he stood, he towered over me, the veined muscles in his calves and thighs even more intimidating when flexed. His chest, arms, and legs were covered with coarse black hair. His toenails, like the nails on his hands, were black and rough.
Ashur took the goblet and left. The lamplight had a hypnotizing effect, and I stared at it for a long while, until I’d fallen into a kind of trance. I tried to memorize the layout of the room. Big enough for the bed-like pallet where I sat, a small table and set of chairs, a shelf with an assortment of books—their spines too old and weathered to read from where I sat. Resting on a rough wall of cabinetry were bowls, plates, and other objects I assumed were for cooking. I didn’t see any weapons, which was a relief, and no instruments of torture. Ashur seemed to be living a humble bachelor’s life. What did he want with me?
He returned soon enough with a small tub of steaming water and a sponge.
“Bath time?” I asked, trying to mask my nervousness.
Ashur grunted. Somehow, I knew what it meant.
“I’m shy.” I hoped he’d leave me with the supplies and let me take care of it myself.
Another grunt, less friendly this time. I glanced down at the water, which was sweet-smelling and coated in a thin layer of oil, then back up at Ashur’s dark, expressive eyes. Seeing my hesitation, he leaned close and puffed air onto my neck. It was hot and moist and scared me more than anything else, even more than his horns, because it was so intimate. Was he trying to say that I smelled bad? Was this bath a gesture of goodwill or was it in preparation for something else?
I would fight if it came to it, but we weren’t there yet.
“You want me to undress,” I said, resigning myself to it. He nodded.
I drew my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, then glanced down at the intricate webbing of rope around my waist and thighs. At the time, I’d thought the harness was unnecessary. Now I wished they’d been chains.
Before I had a chance to contemplate how to unknot it, Ashur swooped in, surprising me so that I jerked back against the wall, its sharp edges cutting into my spine. He looked up at me with curiosity, then bowed his head. In three short tugs, he’d ripped away the harness with his teeth.
“Handy, aren’t they?” I said. If I kept talking, maybe he wouldn’t hurt me.
Ashur knelt again with his hands lying flat on his knees, a strangely submissive posture. Like he was waiting for my next order. Except I wasn’t the one giving them. I unfastened my pants and pushed them down, along with my underwear. I wasn’t sure how to navigate the material around my chained ankle. Turns out, it didn’t matter because Ashur simply tore through them as well.
“That was my favorite pair of jeans,” I grumbled, and my stomach dropped as I realized I wouldn’t be putting them back on. My muscles tensed as Ashur looked me over, head to toe. It was appraising and inquisitive, but it didn’t feel predatory. His wide nose sniffed the air as though trying to memorize my scent.
“Should I?” I reached for the sponge floating on top of the cooling water, and Ashur snorted in disapproval. It wasn’t hard to tell the difference. His negative responses were a short snarl, and his positive ones were more like a groan.
I kneeled with my posture copying his. He pointed to the bare rock between us, so I inched closer, until I was seated in front of him. He reached for the sponge and began washing me in slow, sensual strokes, removing the dirt and sweat that had accumulated from our hike