“Only the ones I like,” I tease. “Are you this shy around all women?”

“Only the ones I like,” he confesses, a sly look in my direction.

That makes me smile. I wiggle my toes at him, beaming. “You can’t be shy around me. I’ve sucked your cock and rubbed your knot. That should make you more at ease in my presence.”

Nemeth groans as if pained, closing his eyes. “And when you say such things, it reminds me of those moments and makes it impossible to concentrate.”

As if that’s such a bad thing. “You were the one that offered to bathe me.”

“So I did.” He drags the cake of soap through the water again and then lifts it to my leg. Nemeth carefully runs it over my calf, and the scent of roses fills the air.

Roses. Erynne does love her roses. I sigh with contentment and close my eyes. It doesn’t even matter that the water is cold. I love that someone’s taking care of me. I love that it’s Nemeth.

He grunts to himself as the soap moves over my foot. “You have such small toes. No claws, either. Humans really are a helpless race. I have no idea why you wish to war with mine.”

“I don’t want to war with anyone,” I deflect as he lifts my leg by the ankle and continues to wash me.

“No,” he muses. “You wouldn’t. You’d kiss everyone until they got along.”

“Not everyone. Only the handsome ones.”

“Then it’s a pity you’re stuck with me.” His big, wet hand trails up to my knee and rests there, going no higher.

I open one eye and scrutinize him. Why is he speaking so negatively of himself? Because I’m flirting? I thought he liked my blatant attempts at seduction. “Is something bothering you, Nemeth?”

“Aye,” he says, and moves to my other calf, washing it. He doesn’t look me in the eye. “I am reminded how very different we are. How you must have had a lively life back at court, full of suitors who were hungry for your attention. And then I think of myself, and how you must be with one such as me simply out of…boredom.”

Boredom? Frowning, I lift my clean foot and shove it against him, catching him in the arm. “Don’t be an arse.”

Nemeth blinks those soulful, glowing eyes at me. “I’m not. I am a scholar. A Fellian. I am acutely aware of what I am.” He holds up one hand. “I have claws. Fangs. Wings.”

“A knot,” I agree. “And a cute little tail.”

He shoots me a quelling look. “Tails are private. Do not call mine ‘cute’ or ‘little.’”

Oops. “If it helps, your knot is enormous.”

Nemeth’s wings twitch. After a moment, he admits, “That…does help, yes.” He starts to wash my leg again. “My point is that I know you are not truly interested in me. I am no court swain. I am not Liosian. I do not know how to properly court a human female.”

Court me? I blink in surprise at that. “You want to court me?”

“Is that so strange?” He gestures at my legs. “I am touching you. I share a bed with you. When my people mate, they mate for life.” He pauses. “I am asking if you truly wish to be mated to a Fellian. If you have thought this through.”

I’m without words. “We can’t just flirt and enjoy one another?”

“Is that all this is to you? A diversion?” He gives me a soulful look.

I swallow hard. I truly have no idea how to answer that. I adore flirting with him. I adore him. At the same time, I’m greatly aware that this flirting between us isn’t allowed. If my people were to find out that I’d kissed him? That I’d sucked his cock? I’d be treated like some sort of aberrant. I’d be a filthy whore in their eyes, Vestalin princess or not. I’d be giving up everything once I got out of here. My home would no longer welcome me.

I wouldn’t be a martyr and a heroine. I’d be a freak.

And yet the thought of turning Nemeth down makes me hurt, deep inside. I want to kiss him more. I want to touch him more. Six more years of being with him and not being with him might be more painful than being locked in this tower.

“You’re not a diversion,” I say softly. “You’re my friend. I care for you.”

“But you wouldn’t give up your people for me?”

How did we go from a lighthearted, flirty bath to defecting to the enemy? “Must it be decided today? This feels a bit like manipulation.”

He gives me a stricken look, his hand hesitating on my leg. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like that, Candra. I just…I am Fellian, I suppose. My mindset is that of my people. And I cannot think of devoting myself without asking for you to be my mate and all that entails.” His claws trail up my leg in a teasing gesture. “It’s difficult for me to try to think of it in human terms.”

Mmm. “Humans don’t exactly think differently, either. At least, not the wealthy ones. All of those marriages are for wealth, land, or name. If you’re a noble and you have a daughter, she’s little more than a cow for you to sell off to the highest bidder.” I make a face at the idea. “It’s only because of my name that I have the slightest bit of freedom, but perhaps that’s why I struggle. I have had marriage proposed to me seventeen times, despite the fact that I bear cursed blood. Seventeen different people all wanted to marry me, all because they want to be tied to the Vestalin name. Because they think their magic cocks can somehow ‘cure’ my infertility.” I snort. “And that’s the problem. No one wants me. Candra. So when I hear a marriage proposal, I know it’s shite, and I automatically wish to run straight for the hills.”

“Even a proposal from a Fellian,” Nemeth muses. “I understand.”

“Do you?” I study him. “I’ve never been in control of my fate. Not as a woman, not as a Vestalin. The only reason I didn’t have to marry those seventeen men that proposed was because the court astrologer said they would have no children if they married me. It was never my choice, understand? Even as the cursed Vestalin, I still would have been made to marry. The only thing I have ever had control over is my body, and who I share it with. Must I give that up so easily, simply because I am fond of you and want to touch you?”

“I understand,” he says again, his expression somber. “You might think I do not, but I do understand what it is like for your life not to be your own.”

I realize what he means—that he is of the First House of Darkfell, and thus a Royal Offering. He is a prince of his people. Perhaps he does understand. I reach for his hand and grip it in mine. “Then you know in a world without freedoms, those that we have are more precious than ever.”

Nemeth smiles at me, his expression slightly sad. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, then hands me the soap. “I do. And I must think on it. Can you finish your bath without me?”

And then he disappears into the shadows, melting away and leaving me alone in the room with my tepid bath, which is far less exciting now that I’m alone.

Hmph. “You could have at least stayed to watch me soap my breasts,” I call out. “Being horny is not a crime.”

There is no answer.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Ihead upstairs after I’ve finished bathing, the tub emptied of its water and my soap carefully put away. I hold the light that Nemeth left for me, and when I get to his rooms, I find him in there, reading a book. He gives me a distracted smile, kisses my palm, and then returns to reading. It’s obvious that he needs some time to himself, to pick through his thoughts.

That’s fine. I have two more letters to dig through. They sit on the corner of the bed, and I glance over at Nemeth. “Should I go upstairs? Give you some privacy to think?”

He looks up at me in surprise and blinks those strange eyes at me. Then he shakes his head. “No. I should like for you to stay.” The smile he gives me is a little shy, a little uncertain. “I prefer you here.”

I beam back at him, pleased. Impulsively, I go to his side, to the stool he has near the cold fireplace, and I fling my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. “No matter what you decide, Nemeth, we are friends. Understand?”