There was no darkness inside my mind, but a girl of moonlight. The imagined warmth of Nelle's body molding against mine inflamed my blood and set my heartbeat racing. The fantasy of her slender fingers curling around the nape of my neck to pull me closer, had my own fingers clenching harder, rougher, and drew out a low, pained groan as my hips thrust into my fist.

I was consumed by the very thought of Nelle. I willingly lost myself within the reverie of her feminine curves, my hands wrapped around her waist in a bruising grip as my teeth bit vulnerable lips. I was depraved enough to desire a shocked gasp, for unease to sharpen the honeyed flecks in her pretty gray eyes, for that pliable body beneath my hands to stiffen with alarm. I hungered for an exquisite burst of lust and fear to wash across my tongue.

Desire whispered through the air and ran slowly down my spine. A shiver of anticipation followed its path and left my skin alive and buzzing. The loud thud of my heart pulsed in time with the tortuous ache in my cock. The bathroom swelled with the thundering sound of raining water, splashing against flesh and stone and pelting pebbled flooring, but beneath it all was a wicked strain of twining sounds: a rich baritone growl and a soft dulcet hum.

There was one thing I wished more than anything as I fantasized about fisting those drenched locks of pale hair to angle her head, the light above us catching on the freckles smattered across her silken cheeks. Her eyes darkening and flaring wider with uncertainty and mutual craving as she stared back, her small hands pushing against my chest.

It was a wistful torment, cruel and savage, the desire to hear my own name.

She'd refused to utter it the moment I'd stolen and hidden her away at the top of a tower.

I wanted it.

Needed it.

Was desperate for it.

Say it, say it, say it...

And when I imagined her lips parting, the sweet sound of my name—more air than voice—an intense rush of mind-bending pleasure speared down my spine. I cried her name, softening to a mantra that I whispered over and over again. "Nelle, Nelle, Nelle," as my hips jerked and my body shuddered and cum splashed over my fingers and sprayed in ribbons across the dark stone.

Bracing both hands on the stone wall, I tamed my panting breath, and the stark reality of my life began to filter in once more.

I didn't want to let the dream of Nelle go. I didn't want to let the coldness back inside only to carve a hollow within my chest. But it was inevitable, like drawing the next bittersweet breath.

When I slowly pried my eyelashes apart, and the room slowly came into focus, instinct and hope made me turn my head over my shoulder, desperately wishing I'd see a trail of small, wet footprints retreating to the bathroom door. But there was nothing on the rough stone. Nothing at all.

Heat buffeted around me and rivulets of water ran around my fingers where they were pressed against the cool wall. Nelle's scent hung heavily in the air and I frowned, wondering if it had seeped in here beneath the bathroom door, or if my fucked up overactive imagination was simply messing with me.

Shit...

I puffed out a breath, straightening my arms to push off the wall. I tipped my head back and roughly scrubbed my face as streams of water struck off my forehead. My fingers raked through wet hair, clenched and tugged, and I welcomed the spike of pain that flared across my skull. I loosened a sated sigh and dropped my hand away.

Fuck, what to do next?

Evening had descended and tonight my brothers were expecting me to join them and add another conquest to the tales inked upon our bodies.

I righted myself and partially moved out of the rain shower. Opening my eyes, I blinked rapidly as my eyesight quickly adjusted to the hazy dreamscape within the bathroom, the steam now as thick as fog.

The uneven flooring gently dug into the soles of my feet as I stepped closer to the recess in the dark stone wall. My reach halted a fingertip away when my gaze fell upon Nelle's favorite strawberry soap which sat beside mine. It was a pastel rose color and still held its delicate and feminine oval shape, imprinted with a leafy design.

Unfortunately, my gaze continued onward to skim over Nelle's fragrant shampoo and conditioner, and all the various bottles of hair masques and other girly shit she owned.

Irritation nipped at my bones and my teeth gritted together.

As per fucking usual, Nelle's products were scattered haphazardly along the shelving, and, godsdammit, the caps of the bottles weren't even closed. I had no idea that was even possible. That not closing your hair products, hells, any fucking product, was actually a thing.

Hissing through clenched teeth, I quickly snapped the lids shut, readjusted the bottles and jars to sit beside one another neatly, shifted them about to use order, nudged them slightly apart, and made sure their labels faced forward.

Would she thank me later?

Fuck, no.

That girl was stubborn and spiteful as all hells.

I grabbed hold of my bar of soap and stepped back into the fall of water. Annoyance leaden with weariness made me sigh once more, this time at sharing my personal space with someone who had no concept whatsoever of what cleaning up entailed. Or went the other fucking way and used someone's toothbrush as a cleaning tool. Something I sure as hells hadn't forgotten.

I ran the soap across my collarbone—

And stilled when I felt a strange tension plucking at my nerves.

I couldn't quite work out why my mood was slightly off-kilter. There was something hanging in the air, strung taut and sharply edged with building anticipation. Nor could I work out why the clouds of steam held onto the memory of fiery notes, spice, and bittersweet blossoms. With every moist inhale, my head was becoming heavier, my thoughts unspooling as I greedily swallowed down more and more of the sweet poisonous air.

And my cock sure as fuck wasn't softening either.

I needed to get out of my quarters, especially with Nelle on the loose toying with me. And there was some digging I needed to do in the library tonight before I met up with my brothers. However, there was no way in Nine Hells I was going to wander around the Keep with a godsdamned erection tenting my sweatpants. I rubbed my stubbled chin, and for one long moment, I considered whether I would have to jerk off all over again to get my godsdamned cock to lay the fuck down.

Deciding against it, I quickly got to work lathering up my chest. The beast branded above my heart was hidden behind a layer of creamy froth, and soapy suds slithered down my torso. The tangy scent of citrus infused the air and momentarily dispersed the memory of Nelle.

And like a thunderclap, my mind sharpened.

I shook my hair like a dog, water spraying everywhere, trying to shake off the peculiar feeling something wasn't quite right. I scrubbed my groin and thighs into a rich lather, and just as I bent over to sluice the suds down my legs I heard something strange behind me.

Ssshhh... shsssshsshhssshhhh...

My ears pricked and honed in on the weird bristling noise.

What the hells is that?

Astonishment and shock slammed into me when I heard Nelle speak. Her voice was strangely slurred and muffled. "Bend over a little more...that's it...give me some more of that sweet ass candy, Crowther."

I snapped straight. My mouth fell open.

The sly little assassin was at it again. She'd snuck in here and watched me—

Holy fuck she would have seen everything—

She would have heard—

Internally I groaned, wondering how loudly I'd moaned her godsdamned name.

Loud. Fucking loud.

I bowed my head, and gently pounded the stone wall with a fist—half-mortified, half pissed off.

Fuck.

Fuuuck!

Pushing off the wall, I half-twisted around.

Nelle leaned against the vanity, her long pale locks tied up all messily, like sexy just-got-tumbled-in-bed hair. She'd tilted her upper body sideways and most of her face was hidden behind steam-dampened tendrils that had spiraled into curls, yet I could feel her lustful gaze sliding all over my body as sweet and hot as a midday sunshower.

My cock swelled even harder under her appreciation.

Shit, shit, shit...

When Nelle straightened with smugness gleaming in her gray eyes, I finally got to see her face.

Revulsion had me flinching and jolting backward, drawing up a forearm to ward her off. The soap fell from my slackened fingers, thudded, and skidded across the pebbled floor. A creepy shudder rippled down my spine.

Holy Zrenyth!

"What the fuck is up with your face?" I barked out in startlement, my voice booming inside the small room.

It looked like a thick slather of goopy mud had exploded from a geyser all over Nelle's face. Most of it was sticky-wet gray while other parts looked like dried plaster that had cracked like a disfigured statue.

She glared back at me, her eyes bright and vicious in a sea of mud. She industriously brushed her teeth ...Ssshhh...shsssshsshhssshhhh... Minty-green toothpaste was frothed all over her lips like a kid who had shoved their mouth into an ice cream cone. "It's a facial mask, Crowther," she snapped back with a look I imagined beneath the muck to be duh, toothpaste spitting everywhere. "It exfoliates and hydrates, and afterward my skin is super soft and glows."

I blinked. Well, shit, that actually sounded good. I wondered if she'd let me touch her cheek afterward, just to feel how soft it would be.

Nelle shifted about to cockily lean an elbow upon the vanity, crossing an ankle over the other, while jabbing her toothbrush at me. "Now get on with the show. I was enjoying myself." She leered at me, checking out my ass like she was at some kind of skeezy strip club, tossing dollar bills at my feet.

Indignation and anger sparked.

The sassy little assassin really had come in here to mess with me.

I swiftly rinsed myself off and turned off the shower faucet. The loud noise of falling water was replaced by the gentle gurgling of soapy water running down the drain and awkward silence.

Nelle rolled her eyes and scoffed at me. "Gods, Crowther, so this is how you've been spending your time—jacking off like a horny schoolboy." She snorted, then turned away to face the vanity, scrubbing her teeth and ignoring me.

I rankled at the schoolboy jab. There was nothing boyish about me at all and she fucking knew it.

Horny?

Fuck yes, I owned that shit.

Stalking closer, I warily eyed her profile and all that weird as fuck gunk. "You started it. Can you blame me with all that taunting you've been doing?"

"Get a grip, Crowther. I was just reading—"

"An erotica." For fuck's sake.

Her lips twitched with a smug smirk.

Heading for the towel rack, I kept her within my periphery. Reflected in the steam-clouded mirror I caught her stealing swift glances as she tracked my movement.

Interesting...

I slowed my pace to purposely rotate a shoulder and roll my neck as if easing a crick.

And I saw it.

Her eyelashes fluttered to half-mast as she leisurely drank up my naked physique, thinking I wasn't paying attention. Her cheeks puffed out with a slowly expelled breath before the nip of white teeth on a toothpaste-frothy lip. The air suddenly spiked with a wild floral scent and my entire body tightened in response to her arousal. I barely suppressed the low growl that threatened to vibrate up my throat.

Nelle blinked, rallying herself. She spat out a mouthful of toothpaste, rinsed her toothbrush, and put it away in the glass canister next to mine. Stretching her short stature to as tall and imperious as she could muster, she half-twisted around to face me. Her mean mouth was beginning to part to say something snarky, I expected, when I whipped around impossibly fast to snatch a fluffy towel from the rack. I dramatically flicked the towel open with a flourishing snap like a hedonistic matador.

But did I cover up?

Fuck no.

Soft fibers soaked up the moisture from my hair as I rubbed the towel over my head. I took my sweet time, slowly pacing the bathroom as I wiped up the beads of water running down my chest and made sure my arms were dry, paying special attention to my biceps, flexing them and watching her mouth fall open even further as she devoured the veins on my forearms with a wide-eyed gaze.

Instead of wrapping the towel around my hips, I casually hung it around my neck to leave my cock pointing at Nelle, waving hel-fucking-lo.

Nelle blinked as if startling from a daydream. Her gaze snapped up to mine. "This isn't a photoshoot for Playgirl, Crowther."

I grinned. "Lucky for you it is."

"Don't you think you should cover up? I wouldn't want you suffering from the cold and for gods' sake soften," she hissed through her teeth, popping out a shoulder with attitude.

I ran the flat of my palm down my abs, challenging her to look lower. "Is there any-fucking-thing soft about me, Wychthorn?" I purred, cocking an eyebrow. "Anything at all?"

She kept her defiant gaze locked on mine, but I saw the way her fingers stiffly clutched the lip of the vanity behind her, and I carefully hid the glee when her pupils slowly expanded.

Nelle's mouth had gone bone-dry. I heard the rasp to her weak-assed denial as she croaked, "Gods, your overinflated ego."

Stepping wide, I shifted my stance as I ruffled the hair at the back of my head. "Anyway, it's my fucking bathroom. You're the one who decided to come in here."

Nelle quickly spun away. I observed her hurriedly wipe the mess of toothpaste from her mouth, some of the face masque coming away as well. She hastily cleaned the cloth beneath running water, fumbling as she folded it, a slight tremble to her hands, leaving me with the distinct impression she was desperate to scurry from the bathroom as soon as possible.

Well, well, well...

I sidled up and partially blocked her retreat. Her gaze whipped upward and our eyes clashed in the steam-smeared mirror. Lowering my chin, I narrowed my gaze. "What the hells are you doing here anyway?"

"It's our bathroom and you were taking forever. I needed to get ready for bed," she snipped airily.

Part of me, the part that had wondrous warmth flooding my chest at her choice of words, wanted to point out the fact she'd just said our bathroom. But she would have hated it and despised herself for a moment of weakness. Instead, I replied, "You could have"—fucking—"knocked."

Her gray eyes darkened to charcoal with anger. I could feel the aether in the room vibrating like a wrathful thunderstorm about to unleash. "Highly doubtful you would have heard me knocking over the sound of you moaning my name," she snarked. She twisted back around and somewhere beneath the mud, I imagined she was pulling a face. "Nelle," she moaned, canting her upper body forward confrontationally, as she deepened her voice to mimic mine.

Gods, my little bird was vicious.