Daimon (Guardians of Hades #6) - Felicity Heaton Page 0,35

very least. The only one liable to see her was the only one she wanted to see her.

She had some decency though.

She plucked a black lace bra and matching panties from her pile of clothing and slipped them on, following it with an onyx satin robe. She hurried from the room. Not a sprint. Sprinting wasn’t very ladylike.

But she did make it to the bathing area in record time, beating Daimon there.

She stopped on the damp tiles that separated the showers on her left from the stone pool on her right. It was large, almost a small swimming pool, and the view from it was breathtaking. Her gaze traversed the sweeping lines that had been raked into the pale gravel of the zen garden to swirl around rocks and pockets of greenery, danced over the delicately clipped topiary, to the large maple tree that was turning red, and then the crisp blue sky beyond.

Steam curled from the surface of the water, tempting her to slip into it to chase away the chill of the autumn morning.

She shed her robe, placing it on one of the dry stools at the side of the bathing area, and then twisted her black hair into a knot at the back of her head, securing it with a pin she formed with a spell. She washed off, hurrying through the process, and then stepped into the water.

It was hot, reminded her of the spring bath the older witches had been allowed to enjoy at the coven. Only here, she wasn’t expected to get all warmed up in the bath and then do something ridiculous like jumping into the snow or icy water.

Here, all she had to do was relax.

She stepped down from the submerged step that ran along the width of the pool, acting as a seat, and sank into the water. She ended up kneeling near the showers and staring out at the zen garden as the sun rose higher. It touched the maple first, chasing the shadow down it and brightening the vivid colour of its leaves.

Had reached the stone lantern at the far end of the zen garden when she realised she wasn’t alone.

She looked over her shoulder at Daimon where he stood at the end of the corridor that led to the main room, clutching a white towel in front of him.

Banked heat burned in his ice-blue eyes, had another achy shiver tripping through her.

“What are you doing?” he growled.

“Bathing.” She swished her hands through the water as she turned to face him. “I thought that was obvious?”

Heat chased over her skin, sending waves of tingles down her arms and spine, as she soaked in the glorious sight of him in his tiny shorts.

And decided the sight of Daimon nearly naked should be illegal.

All that immaculate bare flesh stretched taut over honed muscles. It was just too much.

She ignored the way he growled at her like a rabid animal and took her time, drinking her fill of him, tracing her gaze over the flat slabs of his pectorals and down the valley between them, to the start of his stomach muscles. They flexed as her eyes landed on them, and she bit back a moan. Wicked god. He was doing it on purpose, taunting her with what she wanted to touch. Looking at him wasn’t enough. She wanted to explore him with her fingers.

Wanted to trace the valley between his eight pack and circle his navel.

Just as that ink did.

She frowned. Ink.

How had she missed that last night?

The tribal sun was all sharp spikes a few shades darker than his skin, but as she stared at it, she swore it shifted, darkening a shade more towards black and those straight lines gaining a subtle wave.

Maybe it had been too dark at the pool for her to see it.

Or maybe she had been too swept up in the glorious sight of him to notice the small things.

Now, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

It was definitely changing. Softening.

Like his mood?

She dragged her eyes away from the ink, wanting to see if that was the case.

His blue eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, flecked with diamonds, fixed not on her face but on her body.

“Is that your favour mark?” She waggled a finger towards his stomach.

His eyes shot up to lock with hers and his white eyebrows knitted hard above them as his irises went from blue to white.

And the lines of his favour mark went from subtle waves to