Page 104 of Born for Lace

I don’t wash outside.

It’s inside for me. As I am scrubbing my clothes and knickers in the sink, the bar of soap gliding over the fabric, lathering it with frothy cool water, Lagos hunts around the house.

And he finds something.

Behind a cupboard is a large door. And down the seven steps is an underground shelter. The walls are lined with rough-hewn stone. There are two more rooms and a second kitchen and bathroom, both neat, clean, and stocked with more supplies.

And, best of all, the bathroom. It is beautiful, far more elegant than my bathroom at the Half-tower, with a ceramic tub that curves gracefully, its surface smooth and inviting.

These people had a plan, a future. I wonder what happened to them. This home could have been empty for decades, maybe even longer.

Maybe they just died.

I am gazing dreamily at the bathroom, considering all the possibilities, and without being asked, Lagos uses the car engine to boil water for a bath.

He pours the water in, bringing the temperature to a comfortable level for Spero and me.

I beam, strip off, and dip my toe in. The water is tepid, in a soothing way.

Right, get in, Dahlia.

When I climb into it, I feel a bit like my old self.A Trade Princess.I suppose, in comparison to this life, being in The Trade does seem like the royaltreatment.

Leaning back in the bath water, my body half-submerged, breasts and knees above the surface, I place snoozing Spero on my bare chest.

Lagos doesn’t fit at all; he sits on a stool behind my head with his long, thick legs open and his rough fingers massaging my scalp. Small aches have been moving across my temples for the past few hours, which I hope is a symptom of the hormones.

My chest squeezes when he is kind and gentle like this, with his fingers in my red hair, massaging my scalp. I never imagined this man, this entirely rough man, to be this… attentive.

Though, this side of him only emerges when we are alone. When Tomar is around or near, Lagos’ entire presence hardens.

“You once said you wouldn’t pamper me,” I giggle softly, humming as his firm, consuming touch rubs down the nape of my neck and back up my scalp.

“I said a lot of things I now regret.”

Hedidsay a lot of mean things… Picking up the soap, I dot Spero with it, and then do my best to wash myself without disturbing him too much. I enjoy this moment, musing to myself.

The only thing missing is a story.

Maple used to tell me stories while we bathed or groomed each other. Lagos must have more to share. He must have experiences filled with awe, tasted things that explode with flavour, done things,anythingthat might be considered wonderful and tell-worthy.

I try to get more from him, posing a leading question. “Maple told me once that food, soap, friendship, and sex are life’s great experiences.” My voice is hopeful. “I added my own.Nature.Do you have any to add?”

He hums. “No.”

My chest tightens, wisps of air leaving with a sad sigh. I want more, so much more from him, but getting anything from Lagos the Rogue is like pulling teeth from a skull. I would know. My Ward needed his tooth pulled out by a Trade Doctor once because it was aching so badly, he couldn’t eat.

It isn’t easy to pull teeth…

“It isn’t easy to pull teeth,” I say, the thought bumping through my lips clumsily with an awkward chuckle.

“Yeah. It is.”

I roll my eyes. “You are impossible to get to know, Brute. Please, try. Do you have anything? Anything you can share with me?”

“The world doesn’t look the same through my eyes, little flower.”

Something about that sends knife-like stabs to my heart. “I've been so scared to like you,” I admit, especially because I don’t know you! “I was scared of how attracted I am to you, because I'm truly, truly terrified of the sick feeling in my stoma?—”

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