Demon from the Dark (Immortals After Dark #10)(38)

Yet now he was rich in water, could afford her extravagances. When he nodded, motioning for her to follow him, her eyes lit up and she swiftly collected her pack.

Grabbing his pickax, he led her to an area with a bowl depression that had a retaining wall bricked around it. In olden times, the ceiling ten feet above had been pierced at intervals, tapped for the gathering pool beneath.

He stood on the retaining wall and lifted the ax above his head. After a couple of practiced swings at the ceiling, warm water sprang from the rock, trickling into the pool.

She gave a delighted cry as the level began to rise, and he lifted his chin proudly.

“More,” she murmured in Anglish. She clasped her hands together in that gesture of pleading.

Though it would eventually fill up the large crater, could he deny her when she asked so sweetly? He was already anxious from his nearness to the water, but when he thought about her disrobing completely—with him watching—he yanked off his chainmail, took up his ax once more, and hacked at the ceiling.



Ah, Hekate, the way his body moves.

His back was bare, the skin damp, and as he swung that ax with such ease, his muscles flexed sensuously.

When a bead of sweat dripped down along his spine, she imagined tracing its path with her finger. The first time she’d ever desired to touch him.

Was she actually attracted to a brute like him?

Maybe. But she was just so delighted with him right now. She knew this much water was akin to her bathing in a vat of gold dust at home, and the pool he’d taken her to was perfect, large and oblong, probably waist-deep in the center when filled.

Streams of water rained down from the rock ceiling, spilling from the places he’d pierced, as if from low-pressure showerheads.

When he put down the ax and glanced back, she was biting her bottom lip. From the way he gazed at her eyes, she guessed her irises were sparkling with her interest.

In return, she saw pride in his blue eyes—but she also sensed his underlying disquiet. From the extravagance?

Steam rose from the surface of the pool, reclaiming her attention. She tested it with her fingertips, finding it an ideal bathing temperature. “Thank you, Malkom. But now I need some privacy.” She shooed him away again. “You can come back for your turn.”

In answer, he crossed his arms and gave a grunt.

“Not going anywhere, huh? Fine.” Carrow wasn’t shy. A confirmed eighty thousand people had seen her naked. And that YouTube vid was still going strong!

With a shrug, she sat on the rock wall by the water, emptying her toiletries from the PX. As expected, she’d needed them more than a frigging flashlight. Silly little mortals, step aside, and let the enchantress do like she do.

As the water deepened, she plucked out her toothbrush and toothpaste. Frowning at the tube, she said, “This was full when I left. Demon, did you eat some of my toothpaste?” At his studiously blank look, she sighed. “You ate my toothpaste? Well, at least you left half.” She loaded the bristles and began brushing while he watched in fascination.

He looked so curious that once she’d finished up, she mimicked brushing his teeth. “Brusha, brusha, brusha?” Surprisingly, he seemed . . . interested.

So she signaled for him to sit beside her. When he shook his head, she clasped her hands to her chest. Please.

In a grousing tone, he muttered in Demonish, but he did hesitantly sit on the very edge of the pool.

“Here, bare your teeth.” To illustrate, she drew her lips back, smiling broadly. “Come on, demon. Baring your fangs? Shouldn’t be so strange for you.”

Once he did, she carefully ran the brush over his front teeth, letting him get used to the feeling. Since he hadn’t bitten anything or growled, she grew more aggressive, going dental hygienist on him.

He had nice even teeth, surprisingly white. In a way, even his fangs were sexy. Because his second bite aroused you. Shut up, inner Carrow!

“There, demon. All done—”

Gulp.

“You swallowed it? Gross!” He scowled at her tone. “No more big-kids’ Crest for you until you learn to spit.” She clucked her tongue. “Well, now your teeth are clean, but the rest of you is caked in dust. Hair hanging all in your face. I wonder if you’d let me cut it? Maybe even shave you? Or would you growl and snap?”

She gingerly lifted a lock of his dirt-coated hair and made a scissors motion. “Can I cut it?” She figured he would put up resistance, thought his kind probably favored having their hair long as per some warrior demon code. But after a hesitation, he gave a nod. So if there was no reason not to cut it, why hadn’t he?

Because he’s a guy? With no women around, any male she knew would be kicked back in a beer-stained Barcalounger parked in front of a TV, wearing stale track shorts and absently scratching himself.

Now this male was actually going to let her do an extreme makeover, demon edition. Not bothering to hide her excitement, she said, “I’ll be right back,” then hurried to the soldiers’ packs. She grabbed some T-shirts to use as cloths, a comb, a disposable razor, and man soap. She found small shears on the all-purpose knife.

When she returned, he’d already moved off the wall, a wary look in his eyes.

She sat once more, lining up her gear, then patted the stone for him to come sit.

He hesitated before rejoining her.

“Okay, demon. Step one: hair. Commencing.” By the time she’d finished unbraiding the ravels, he was nearly quaking. Sensing this was a very delicate time, she moved gingerly. The nervous cast to his eyes made her believe he was allowing her more than he ever had another.