Page 65 of A Kiss From Death
He smirks at me, and I can already see the words forming on the tip of his tongue.
“That wasn’t an invitation to watch me change, you pervert,” I shout while picking up one of the giant pillows and launching it at him. It makes a slight pain shoot through my side, but I hold in my wince.
He chuckles, catching the pillow before it hits him in the face. He turns around where he’s standing. Apparently, that’s the extent of the privacy he’s planning on granting me.
Letting out a huff, I unwrap the towel from around my body and drop it to the floor, the wet fabric making a slapping noise when it hits the ground in front of the bed. The sound draws a low groan from Hade, knowing I now sit mostly naked inhisroom onhisbed, but he stays firmly rooted in his place like a gentleman.
I peel off my wet lacey undergarments next, dropping them to the floor slowly, making a soft slapping noise against the hard floor.
Hade’s deep, strained voice breaks the silence. “Nyxi,” he growls.
Feigning innocence, I respond, “What? Would you like me tosoakyour bed?”
He chokes, knocking his fist into his chest before a deep rumble leaves him, making the room vibrate. He clenches his fists, his knuckles going white with restraint.
Silently giggling to myself, I grab the large shirt he left on the bed next to me and slip it over my head. It’s oversized, and my body drowns in it, looking more like a nightgown instead. It smells of him, and I take in a deep breath, letting his smokey sandalwood scent flood my senses. It’s heady in the best way.
“Are you finished?” he asks in a deathly low tone.
“Yes, sir,” I croon sweetly, trying to hold in the laugh the threatens to spill at the name I know he hates so much.
Grunting, he turns around, and pride flashes across his eyes seeing me all wrapped up like a present in his clothes, until his eyes travel down and catch the slight swell of my breast pushing against the soft fabric of his shirt, my nipples peeking through.
In an instant, his dark magic shoots out, picking up the blanket thrown across the bottom of his bed and draping it around my shoulders to cover me from view. A longing, pained look flashes across his face.
“You looked cold,” he says, practically choking on the words.
I raise my eyebrows as his magic slips beneath me, picking me up and spinning me around so I’m facing away from him, making me squeal in surprise.
Looking over my shoulder, I see him take two large strides until his knees collide with the edge of the bed behind me.
“Face forward,” he demands, and being the good, obedient girl I am tonight, I turn forward without putting up a fight, more intrigued than wanting to push his buttons.
I feel a light pull at the back of my head and realize the familiar tug of a brush dragging through my curls. He starts at the tips of my hair, slowly making his way up so as not to tug my head harshly. It’s heaven until he opens his mouth.
“What was the name of the headmaster at your orphanage?” he prods, trying to feign nonchalance.
“Why?” I ask wearily.
“Just curious,” he quickly responds, taking on a bored tone.
Playing into his little game, I respond, “Azul.”
“Last name?” he asks immediately.
Looking over my shoulder, I give him a questioning look. He gently tugs my hair, making me face forward again.
“Calix,” I slowly state, not wanting him to rip the hair from my head if I keep ignoring him.
He grunts to himself, satisfied with my answers, and then I feel him start to twist and pull my hair, braiding it down the center of my back.
“Are you braiding my hair?” I ask, surprised he knows how.
Ignoring me, he ties off the end of my braid with a piece of ribbon and gives it a firm tug, letting me know he’s finished. Walking to the head of the bed, he pulls down the top sheet and gestures for me to climb under. I tuck my small body inside, sinking into the giant mass of pillows plopped against the headboard. I swear it feels like there’s a perfect Nyxi-shaped indent carved into the bed for me to melt into. I let out a deep sigh, all the pain and exhaustion of the night settling deep into my bones, making me feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives.
“I will be taking over as your guard,” he states firmly, looking over my body, seemingly satisfied I’m tucked safely away in his bed.
“Why?” I protest, not liking the idea. “I like Winston, and didn’t you once tell me you were too busy to babysit me?” I huff.
