Graves toyed with another one of the vials on the top of her vanity, lifting and swirling it, watching the clear liquid as it sloshed against the side of the glass container it was in. "And attraction…" He uncapped the vial in his hand and brought it up to his nose, inhaling. "Chamomile," he declared.
"Good," Bastian responded. "Put that behind her ears. It will help her to relax."
Graves brought a hand to his lips, tugging a glove off with his teeth. The leather dropped onto her lap, and she watched as he poured some of the chamomile oil onto his bare fingers and leaned forward. Her head tipped as she looked up at him. She was caged in on either side. The raven shifter at her front and Bastian at her back.
Pools of lapis lazuli and reddened orbs scorched her body. The fluffy towel wrapped around her felt inconsequential.
Graves brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her arched ears. She shivered from the ghostly touch of his bare skin against her sensitized flesh. Silently, he rubbed the pads of his oiled fingers against the soft skin behind her ears. Calming chamomile loosened her limbs.
He pulled back and recapped the vial with ease as if he had not just controlled the very beating of her heart.
Bastian finished massaging her arms and shoulders, holding out a glistening palm to her. "Stand. I must do your legs before you dress."
She fumbled for words. "I-I do not think… I do not need you to do the rest of me. I can do it."
He tutted under his breath. "You’re not getting out of this that easily, pet. Now stand." He urged her to take his palm, and she did so with unveiled hesitancy.
Clutching the towel tighter to her, she bit down hard on her bottom lip at the rush of cool air against her bare thighs. The hem of the towel tickled her upper thighs, not quite long enough to be decent. She stared up at Bastian, and the red in his eyes grew more pronounced.
The vampire did not break her stare as he slowly knelt before her.
"What—" Luella stumbled back but was caught by two hands against her waist. She turned her head slightly, seeing Graves behind her, keeping her trapped.
One of his hands was still bare, and his discarded glove had fallen to the floor by their feet. He reached up. His skin was so tan against her paleness, and his scent called to her, wrapping her up in its embrace.
"He’s just oiling your thighs," Graves assured her. He leaned down—her hair was still tucked behind her ear, chamomile pressed into the skin there—and whispered against the shell of her ear, "Don’t go and get a dirty mind, sweetheart. We have plenty of time to dirty you later, but you just got out of the bath. We don’t want you sullied so soon."
His breaths were warm against her skin, and she felt tiny beads of perspiration dotting her body, even as a chill wracked her frame. The snow was a constant stark whiteness, filtering in with the evening light. Though the night was quickly falling throughout Serpentis, the heavy blanket of white over the lands only made everything brighter, and she blushed from the glow of light that clearly illuminated her flushed skin and blown pupils.
She gulped. "I can do it… truly."
Bastian stared up at her, his hands hovering over her exposed thighs. "We know. Let us do this for you."
Graves nipped at her lobe, and she was reminded of their kiss in the library. "To help calm you," the raven shifter murmured.
Bastian finally placed his hands on her thighs, and she bit back a pleased sound as his hands expertly massaged the ylang-ylang and lavender mixture into her skin.
She tried to speak, even while his touches and their scents were sending her into a stupor. "Why must I be oiled with the ylang-ylang if it is for d-desire?" she stumbled over the word.
Bastian’s breath puffed over her pale thighs as he said, "It is a secret." His lips stretched as he muttered the last word, a sly grin overtaking his sensual mouth. And this time, she could not stop the sound of pleasure that tore from her lips. Bastian’s hands gripped her thighs tightly, and she wondered if she would have bruises.
"We know all about secrets, don’t we?" Graves echoed in her ear.
"N-not me," she said softly. Her lids fluttered closed under their attentions. "Youknow secrets."
The raven shifter huffed a laugh in her ear. She was becoming baked in the scent of spiced honey and bergamot.
Bastian finished oiling her thighs, hands skimming down to her calves, which he gave much less attention than he did her upper thighs. As he stood, his hands firmly pressed into her legs, giving one last circling massage to her overheated, glistening skin. Graves’s fingers flexed against her waist, and something impish sparked in Bastian’s red-tinted eyes.
The vampire’s fingers spanned her upper thighs before a hand snaked over and pressed firmly between her towel-covered legs, roving up the rest of her body like it never even happened. She jolted, a noise halfway between strangled and pleased torn from her bitten lips.
But Bastian merely stood, cocking his head. "What is it, pet? Feel good?"
Graves pulled away from her back slightly, and she stumbled out from between their bodies and held the towel closely to her chest, her thighs quivering.
"I—" she started, but could not find it in her to address what he had done with both of them staring at her so intensely.
"Let’s get you dressed," Bastian said. He gently took her hand where it was clutching the towel and held it tightly; her other hand gripped the fluffy material so harshly her knuckles were white. He led her to her wardrobe and pulled a soft, flowing dress from within.