Lacuna - N.R. Walker Page 0,59

they moved closer somehow? Crow’s face was barely an inch from Tancho’s now. He could feel the heat of his body, he could see the gold sparkles in his eyes.

“It’s not working at all,” Tancho replied in a whisper.

“Have you a trail of lovers from your bed?” Crow asked, his eyes studying the depths of Tancho’s. “Or just one?”

“No,” he breathed. “No one.”

“Good.” Crow licked his lips as though he might kiss Tancho, and oh, how Tancho wanted it. “Men or women?”

Tancho had to repeat the question in his head so he could answer it. “Both. Mostly men.”

Crow hissed. “I don’t like the idea of other men knowing your body.”

Before Tancho could reply, before his brain could snap out of whatever trance possessive Crow had on him, one of the attendants cleared their throats from the door. “The bath is ready, my king.”

It was just enough of a distraction for Tancho to gather his wits. He stepped back, not meeting Crow’s intense stare, breaking the spell between them. “The bath is for you. I will meditate; then I can bathe while you . . . rest.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” There was a smile in his voice, so Tancho risked a glance.

“Yes.”

Crow’s smile became a smirk, as though Tancho had just put down a challenge he couldn’t refuse. Maybe he had. His mind certainly wasn’t his own lately.

Using every ounce of self-control, Tancho walked into the bathroom knowing Crow would follow. He went to the window, and keeping his back to the bath, he dared not turn around while he heard Crow undress.

There was a splash of water. “You can turn around now,” Crow murmured. “Though I don’t know why it matters. You’ve seen me naked before.”

But Tancho didn’t turn around. He was barely holding on to his thread of sanity as it was. Seeing him naked now would be his undoing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he mumbled. “Considering how things are between us.”

Crows voice was low and smooth. “And how are things between us?”

Confusing, odd, frightening, amazing. “Tense.”

Crow chuckled at that and Tancho wanted to send him a scathing glare, yet he didn’t dare look. He simply sat down, cross-legged, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. “I would prefer silence,” he said instead, and thankfully Crow had the good manners to do as he was bid.

Tancho could finally shut his mind off. If it were the sun beaming in from outside, the steam from the bath, the gentle sounds of water as Crow washed himself, or the relief of being at home, Tancho wasn’t sure. But he could feel his mind centring. As he closed out the rest of the world, he could feel his inner peace and calm returning.

It had been far too long.

He didn’t hear Crow get out of the bath, he didn’t hear him dress or leave the room. It was the burn underneath his birthmark that drew his attention. They were too far apart, and the pain ripped him out of his meditation like a fish caught on a line. “Ah!” he cried, getting to his feet.

“Sorry,” Crow said from the doorway. “I forgot. I was just trying to leave you in peace. You were so engrossed. I had a whole conversation with you and you ignored me.”

“I didn’t ignore you. I was meditating. I tune everything out.” Tancho rubbed his birthmark. He tried to cool his temper because Crow had just tried to do the right thing. “I apologise. Was the conversation of anything important?”

Crow shook his head, and Tancho only just realised that Crow’s hair was wet. He liked it wet, the way it hung down . . . “I was just telling you . . . never mind.”

Tancho went to him, too scared to touch him but needing to be closer. “I do apologise. I should have warned you. When I meditate, I get lost in my head. You can speak to me while I bathe, if you wish.”

“I was only teasing you,” he said. “The conversation . . . I was trying to distract you because I was naked in the bath and you were trying really hard not to look. Well, I thought you were trying, but you really were meditating and didn’t care that I was naked. Not even when I stood up out of the water. So I’m trying not to bruise my ego too much.”

Tancho chuckled. “I fear there is enough of your ego to survive the biggest of hits.”

“Perhaps,”