Page 9 of Scent of Desire
He did it on purpose.
Radcliff knew my fears and could read me with ease. If I conquered my demons and tamed them, he would reward me.
You take pleasure in being afraid, little witch.
I could hear the whisper of his voice replying to my soul.
Arriving at the end of this staircase, I then crossed a long corridor with stones that could have looked like skulls, as if the foundation of the manor was built on skeletons. A gloomy sign of wrath and death. The air was cold, with no draft passing under this secret passage, which felt like a walk inside the catacombs.
My grip tightened on my light, for fear the candle would blow out. A shiver ran through my spine, thinking it was the road to a sunless prison. I didn’t feel safe being underground.
As I observed the dusty wood door marking the end of the tunnel, I heard the echo of burning ovens through the stones. The flames were crackling; somebody was adding charcoal below. It was like feeding a hungry steam train, and that was how I imagined the underworld to smell like—a firewood of sacred fire from which curls of smoke escaped in a dark fragrance. Suave, woody notes of cedar, sandalwood, and coffee beans.
Wrenching the door open, I faced an underground cave with the air of a hammam. Mist blurred the orange burning lights of the torches, like those found in castles, hanging on the walls. Two flaming stone columns stood at the end of the roman bath like a god’s temple.
It was square with a ledge inside, a milk bath covered with black petals, which swirled in the creamy color. I had never seen a bath nor a place like this. It was a midnight Arabian dream.
The petals were from theQueen of the Nighttulip, her sweet and floral odor filling my nostrils. Knowing Radcliff, he didn’t leave any details to chance. It was a coronation.
People are baptized in holy water.
And this was my baptism inside the Devil’s lair.
Steam escaped from the bath, the ovens below the stones probably heating it. Across the fog, by the columns, enthroned on a royal chair, was Radcliff. Like a regal king, in a black velvet towel wrapped around his hips, his presence stopped my heart. The torchlight illuminated only part of his face; as usual, he remained in the shadows. His powerful muscles melted me. His imposing biceps glowed in a golden sunset tone as drops of sweat slid through his defined abs and deep V.
“Radcliff,” I dropped, already burning hot.
He did not get up, his obsidian stare scorching me more than the heat of the room. And then, he ordered, “Strip.”
I blinked and glanced at my dress, about to contest him. But instead, I shut my mouth and held his gaze that couldn’t be refused. He ran his hand over his jaw, analyzing me, his mind commanding me by reading into mine. I obeyed his order and sensually pulled the zipper of my dress down. I lowered my shoulder straps and let my dress fall on the cobblestones.
I swallowed, thinking he was done with me, and I inched closer to meet him, my skin made golden by the flames.
He leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Strip. Everything.”
I unclasped my bra, which met the floor next to my dress, alongside my panties, which followed right after. Naked in front of him, I let his gaze strip me even more than I was. It lingered on me as if I was a creation meant to be adored, belonging to him in a contract made of the ink of life.
“Pull your hair to your back. I want to see you.”
I didn’t resist and let my hair caress my back. I tugged a strand of it behind my ear, nibbling my lower lip. His stare stopped on my breasts, tracing every curve, devouring them with his eyes, and my nipples hardened in response. He then lowered his gaze to my waist and hips until he reached my sex. He clenched his jaw, holding in all of his darkest cravings, his demons feasting on the view. The way he reacted strongly to me made my hair raise and my knees buckle. His silence was torture. My mouth parted, and my body tingled, needing more than a phantom touch. I needed him to submit to his devastating desire.
The corner of his lips quirked up, appreciating the effect he was having on me.
“Enter the bath, flower goddess,” he tempted me.
Magnetized, I ambled slowly toward the bath, my steps led by the butterflies inside my belly. My eyes didn’t move away from his. The milk hugged my feet, and the feel of it could rock me in the sweetest of melodies.
Covered up to my upper legs, I stopped and collected the milk in the hollow of my hands. A teasing smile appeared on my lips, and I let the white liquid fall on my breasts, passing by my nipple until it reached my stomach. His eyes followed when, with a finger, I traced the path of the liquid, caressing myself leisurely.
Radcliff tightened his grip on the throne before he brought his fist to his mouth and bit one of his fingers to contain his impulses.
I engulfed myself inside the bath up to my neck. I swept my arms in the liquid, leaving it staining my skin porcelain white. I tilted my head back, and the black petals caught in my wet hair, forming a dark crown.
“You’re not fully wet.” Radcliff leaned forward, and the flames next to him mirrored his demons, rising higher. His eyes contrasted with the red, the irises as black as his pupils.
I dove under the milk. It was like being inside a soft cloud, a heavenly dream you don’t want to wake up from. Coming out, I blinked away the white liquid before I sat down on the ledge and outstretched my arms on either side. My breasts broke through the surface as drops of milk ran down my forehead to my lips. I caught one with my tongue and licked it.
“There is room for more than one person inside this bath.” I wanted to enchant him, spellbind him like the siren he wanted to trap.
