I was pretending to be a nice guy.
It wasn’t an exact science, but I was pretty sure John didn’t get turned on from throat punches and fantasize about digging his nails into Arabella’s skin and making her bleed.
I forced my hands away from my neck and said slowly, “I’ll wash and pamper you in the shower. I’ll take care of you.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, since I did want to care for my Revered.
The problem was my standard of care was probably very different from what a normal man would imagine. It involved daggers, wax, screams of pleasure, and moans of pain.
I reached down for the edge of my sweatshirt and began to tug it off.
“No.” Arabella pulled the fabric back down and stopped me. “Don’t take your clothes off.”
Bemusedly, I waited for her instructions.
A long moment passed awkwardly between us, like she was waiting for me to fight her and didn’t know what to do with the fact that I’d obeyed her command.
I smiled softly and waited.
She exhaled heavily like I was being difficult. “We’re going to both get into the shower, and we’re going to talk to each other. Fully clothed.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because I like to think in the shower, and this way we can clear the air between us,” she said sassily. “I don’t believe we’ve ever just sat and talked to each other.”
“We can do that unclothed,” I pointed out.
Her teeth ground together, and her breath hitched unevenly as she said, “Either get in and shut up, or be a pervert like Malum and leave. It’s your call.”
I arched my brow at the venom in her voice.
Women made no sense, and I’d never understand them. Their logic was unsettling. Unfortunately, a nice guy would not point that out.
Shrugging, I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped in.
The scalding water immediately soaked through my clothes, and the warm fabric hung heavy off my frame. It was unpleasant but easily ignored.
I sat down, folding my long limbs awkwardly in the narrow tub, and waited for further instructions.
“What are you doing?” Arabella asked with confusion.
I scrunched my knees up and parted my legs as wide as possible to make room for her in the cramped space. “I’m doing what you said.”
“Exactly!” She sounded genuinely disturbed. “Why are you listening to me?”
I rolled my eyes at the insinuation that I would never obey her.
She was absolutely correct.
Still, it was rude to point it out so obnoxiously. She was making it fucking hard to be the nice guy that she apparently preferred.
“Are you going to get in or not?” I asked slowly as I tried not to bite her head off.
Nonchalance was extremely difficult to portray because my throat still burned where she’d punched me and I was painfully erect.
But I did it.
For her.
Anything for Arabella.
There was a long moment of silence, then an exhale and the flutter of the shower curtain as she climbed into the tub and joined me.
My sweatpants became uncomfortably tight.
Water sprayed down and splattered across the both of us, mixing our scents as her legs brushed against mine as she positioned herself.
I swallowed down a moan.
It didn’t matter that we were both clothed; the knowledge that her skin was so close to mine was enough to make me groan with awareness.
Breathing heavily through my nose, I tried to maintain a calm facade. Unfortunately, that meant I inhaled more of her intoxicating scent.
Blood rushed south.
My head spun with dizziness.
This was torment. Why in the realms would I agree to sit in a fucking tiny space with my fated soulmate? A space where people usually got naked.
I was an idiot.
Soapy skin and moans of pleasure filled my imagination. I tipped my head back, squeezed my eyes shut, and prayed to the sun god for self-control.
Also, why had I thought it was a good idea to approach her when my mates were gone?
I should have forced Orion to stay and helped Corvus—sun god knew it had been fucking rewarding last time I’d gone—but Orion hadn’t wanted to miss out on the fun and I’d agreed to be the one to stay back.
My control was waning.
“So.” She thudded her head against the shower wall. “What should we discuss?”
I barely stopped myself from snapping at her not to hurt herself.
Only I got to do that, not her.
She didn’t know how to make the pain enjoyable. She needed a teacher; she needed me.
I shrugged as I tried to think of what a nice guy would want to talk about.
After a long pause, I finally settled on, “How are you feeling?”
Arabella burst out in laughter.
Annoyingly long minutes passed where she cackled to herself like a maniac. Finally, she gasped and said, “I’ve been better. How about you?”
She laughed harder, clearly mocking my attempts at pleasantries.
She was begging to be punished.
I harrumphed and said, “I was trying to be nice. You don’t need to be fucking rude about it.” I grimaced as I realized what I was doing.
Forcing my muscles to relax, I tried to look apologetic and nonthreatening.
“What is wrong with your face?” she asked. “Your expression is weird.”
I clenched my jaw as water poured over me, overstimulating my arousal-heightened nerves.
That was it.
I was done with the games.
“Really, can’t you fucking see I’m trying to be a nice guy for you?” I snapped as I glared at her. “Since that’s all you seem to want in a man, I’d think you’d be a little more appreciative of my efforts—sun god, could you be any more difficult?”
Arabella scoffed, then replied with venom, “I never told you to be a nice guy. News flash, I already know you’re not nice, so don’t pretend to be something you’re not. It’s pathetic and frankly, creepy.”
I ground my teeth together. “You’re the pathetic one who has us sitting here fully clothed in the shower like idiots.”
“Well, you’re the pathetic one who listened to me.”
“Well, you’re the pathetic one for making me so obsessed with you.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Why are you so difficult?” I shook my head in exasperation. “Why do you have to make everything so fucking hard? Can’t you just be all weak and simpering or whatever a woman is supposed to be like?”
“You sexist piece of shit,” she said through gritted teeth. “Why can’t you be all gallant and chivalrous like a man is supposed to be?”
“Gallantry is for foolish men.” I laughed cruelly at the idea of simpering about.
She laughed back louder. “And weakness is for foolish women.”
I opened my mouth to argue but snapped it closed because she had a point. Neither of us fit into any gender stereotypes.
“So where does that leave us?” I asked slowly as I trailed my fingers across the cracked edge of the tub and counted the seconds between her breaths.
She didn’t breathe for five seconds, then her breath expelled in a whoosh. “It leaves me sitting in the tub with an ass.” She mumbled under her breath, “And you wonder why I don’t want to be your mate.”
I scowled.