many of the tangles as she could from Haven’s hair, Imara led her to an adjoining bathing chamber. The room was also large, the claw-footed tub big enough for two and somehow already filled with steamy, bubbly water. Floor-to-ceiling windows splashed the city’s ethereal light across the dark marble walls.
The dusky light made it feel closer to evening than early afternoon.
Beyond the windows stretched the city, a vast tapestry of interconnected buildings that stretched to the horizon.
Haven sank into the hot bath, sighing as the heat worked into her tired muscles. Imara’s knobby fingers shook as she set soaps and oils onto the bath’s ledge. A basket of what had to be bread came next, the familiar yeasty smell making her stomach tighten. Along with the bread came a platter of fruits—figs, pomegranates, dark red strawberries, and perfectly ripe peaches. A cup of fragrant tea steamed beside the small feast.
Imara took her job very seriously. Haven needed to somehow be cleaned, painted, and fatted by tonight.
With a fierce nod, the woman left the room. A few seconds later, Haven heard her chamber door close and the lock click. Haven was reaching for a loaf of bread when the faintest prickle of magick made her pause.
“I thought the old crone would never leave,” came a familiar voice.
Stolas. The breath caught in her throat as he resolved from the shadows of the far corner. She wasn’t the only one who had cleaned up since they last met. His wavy hair was freshly washed and brushed, the pale strands so silken that she imagined running her fingers through them again. The fitted sable jacket he wore was embroidered with silver to match his shirt. It showed off his wide shoulders, muscular chest, and tapered waist.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he strolled around the side of the tub. His attention drifted to the bathwater. She noticed with alarm that the thick layer of bubbles had melted into a few flimsy islands.
Considering what they had done last night, her modesty felt silly. And yet . . .
His lips curled faintly at the edges, and she exhaled when he shifted that predatory focus to the food on the bath ledge. Plucking a strawberry from the platter, he sat on the edge of the tub, lifted his eyes to hers, and bit into the fruit.
She frowned at the way her heart fluttered. “Did you come here just to eat my food?”
“Oh, did you want all of that?” He jerked his chin toward the platter. “I suppose it is important that you smell delightful tonight.”
“You can tell what someone has eaten by scent?”
He took another bite. “Not everything, but certain fragrant fruits have a particular scent. You would be surprised how well strawberries and figs pair with blood.”
Goddess Above. The meal was meant to make her taste good. “What about the tea?”
His nostrils flared. “That’s simply to drug you so that your primal instincts are dulled. Everyone panics their first time.”
“How do they know it’s my first time?”
He inhaled once more. “Your scent. During your first blood-letting, you are marked.”
“Forever?”
He shrugged. “It’s a territorial thing.”
Pushing the food aside, she crossed her arms over her chest and changed the subject. “How did you get your powers back?”
“Demon blood.” He caught her look of disgust and added, “It’s the only way to access dark magick inside this realm. Even with what I consumed, my powers are a shadow of what they normally are.”
Haven lifted her arm. Bubbles slipped away to reveal the faded glint of her runemarks. “And my powers?”
He shook his head. “Even a drop of demon blood can corrupt a lightcaster’s magick.”
Her arm splashed back into the water. “And here I was so excited to sample demon blood. Is there anything I can consume in this place that won’t ultimately harm me?”
“Not likely. But if we play our cards right, we will be gone by morning.” He pulled something from his jacket pocket, and she thought she caught him wince slightly at the movement. Was he still injured?
The item clinked as he carefully set it on the platter next to a pomegranate. “This will put the Demon Lord into a very brief compulsion.”
She stared at the dark thimble-sized jar. “What is it?”
“Very expensive, that’s what it is.”
“Did you steal it?”
One side of his mouth quirked. “No.”
“Then how?”
“I can be very charming when I need to be.”
She nearly laughed . . . until the hungry way the demonai female last night looked at Stolas came to