Page 95 of Lost and Stolen Gods
He helped me to the washroom and turned on the water before putting his blindfold back in place. I held on to his arm while undressing, then guided him into the shower with me, using him as a crutch.
Hot pellets beat down on me. This was bliss. I washed with one hand, using the other to hold on to him, but when I got to my hair, I faltered. How would I wash it with one hand?
“Leela? Are you all right?”
I hated my helplessness, and if my hair wasn’t so greasy, I’d leave it unwashed, but all the sweating had it sticking to my scalp. “I can’t wash my hair with one hand. I mean, I could, but it wouldn’t be a great job. Can you help?”
“Put soap in your hair, then brace your hands on my shoulders. I’ll wash it for you.”
I obliged, then stepped closer to him, sliding my hands up his biceps and onto his powerful shoulders. His chest was wet, shoulders beaded with water, skin smooth and taut beneath my fingers. Fuck, this felt too good.
His hands raked through my hair, found my scalp, and began massaging. I bit back a moan because damn it felt good. I studied his face beneath the blindfold as he lathered me up. Angular cheekbones, chiseled chin, and lush lips, slightly pouted now in concentration as he worked on my hair.
“Take a step back,” he said.
I did so, and he came with me, his hands smoothing through my hair to rinse off the soap.
My eyes burned because no one had done something like this for me before. Back home in my world, I’d been sick once, bedridden for a week. Matt had dropped off food in between being at work, but he’d never once bothered to offer to help me bathe or shower.
“All clean.” Pashim smiled.
A rush of warm emotion had me pushing up on tiptoe to kiss him softly on the lips. I lingered a moment, breathing him in, an ache in my heart. “Thank you.” I dropped down to my soles. “I mean it.”
“It was my pleasure.” His tone was thick with emotion of its own. “Now let’s get you dry.”
He helped me out of the shower, and I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around myself. “I’m covered now.”
He tugged off the blindfold and studied my hair. “I did a good job.” He tweaked a wet tendril, then scooped me up and carried me back into the bedroom, where he deposited me on the bed. “Where are your clothes?”
“Armoire.”
He began riffling through my stuff. “What’s this?” He plucked out the canvas bag of books Bhoomika had given me.
“Books. Introductory texts. I keep meaning to read them.” I’d been so caught up in preparing for the gauntlet, so tired after training, that I hadn’t bothered.
“You went to Vidya Tower?” His eyes lit up.
“Yes. And I got the impression that there are things that we’re not being told.”
He frowned. “What kind of things?”
“Like what the devouring force truly is and whether the bond between drohi and demigod can be broken, without one of them dying, of course.”
“What gave you that impression? Did the sage say something to make you suspicious?”
“It’s more what shedidn’tsay…It’s hard to explain. Heck, maybe I was imagining it.”
He pulled the books out, turning them over. “We aren’t permitted to read such texts. Only fiction books.” He made to put it back.
“Take them.”
“What?”
“Read them and tell me what you find.”
He studied me warily. “You’d be breaking the rules by allowing me to read these.”
“Fuck the rules.”
