by K. L. Thorne
Chapter Seven
If Haros didn’t have a kink for flexible women before, he certainly did now. The hour or two that he had spent watching Sivelle’s dance lesson had been eye-opening. He made a resolute promise to himself that he would attend every session from now on.
Haros smirked. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off before he said, or preferably did, something inappropriate. It was getting ridiculous. He barely knew Sivelle but was already hotter for her than any woman in living memory.
Being her thrall just titillated him further. He wondered just how many raunchy scenarios his filthy mind could whip up over that premise alone…
The afternoon had passed by in comfortable silence. Haros had dozed, making up on the lost sleep from his uncomfortable stay in the dungeons. Mivian had picked at her cross-stitch and the princess had become thoroughly engrossed in the book she was reading.
A groan from Sivelle drew his attention. He cracked his eyes open and saw the princess sat up on the side of her bed, stretching her back with a grimace. Her delicate wings fluttered as she rolled her shoulders.
“A bit sore, sweetheart?” Haros asked, fighting a smile.
“You have no idea,” she whined.
Mivian got to her feet and put her cross-stitch on the side table. “I’ll draw that bath for you now. It will help a little, I’m sure.”
The handmaiden disappeared into the bath chamber and Haros was alone with the princess for a moment. He couldn’t let the perfect opportunity to make a comment on Sivelle’s flexibility pass him by.
“Before today I had no idea that legs could bend the way yours do. Very impressive.”
“If the pain I’m feeling right now is anything to go by, legs probably aren’t meant to bend like mine did!” Sivelle snorted and rubbed her hands, balled up into fists, along the length of her thighs.
“You know, I’ve got a few ideas for how we could—”
“I’ve added a few drops of lavender soap to the water this evening, Your Highness.” Mivian re-emerged, smiling.
Haros scowled with frustration.
Sivelle cautiously got to her feet. “Lovely. Thank you, Mivian.”
“Come, I’ll help you undress. You look like you might need a hand.” The handmaiden laughed.
“Oh Liza, you cruel, cruel woman…” Sivelle hissed beneath her breath, hobbling forwards.
Damn, Mivian gets all the best jobs…
Haros sat up from his bed on the settee and stood. He walked towards one of the large windows and looked out. It was already dark and the city of Awrelwood sparkled a great distance below. Snow continued to fall.
It was going to be a harsh winter this year, which was never a good thing for the residents of Banesteppe. Unlike the faeries, who would spend the winter cosied up next to a roaring fire in their luxurious dwellings, many demons would be taking their chances on the frozen streets.
It was a little-known fact that Haros occasionally spent his evenings trawling for vagrants in need of assistance. He had a particular soft spot for children. He wondered just how many of the homeless would freeze to death in the gutter this year.
Before he could dwell on that unhappy thought, the bath chamber door flew open once more.
“Haros, the princess is in the tub. I’m going to head down to the kitchen to check on the dinner preparations. Can you—”
“And wine! Send wine!” Sivelle shouted.
Mivian rolled her eyes with a laugh. “I’ll send a bottle up in the service chute from the kitchen. Can you take care of her until I get back? I can’t imagine she’s going to be in a hurry to get out any time soon, but just keep an ear to the door in case she needs anything.”
“No problem.” Haros nodded.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Mivian hurried to the door.
“No need to rush, take your time.” The demon fought a smile. Maybe he would get a chance to make a move on the princess this evening after all. Candles, a bubble bath, wine… It was a recipe for success. There was just one thing missing.
“Before you go,” Haros called and the handmaiden hesitated halfway through the door. “Have you got any oil laying around?”
Mivian cast him a quizzical look. “What would you need oil for?”
“I figured the princess might enjoy a massage after her bath.” He shrugged, attempting to keep his tone nonchalant.
“That’s a good idea – very sweet of you.” Mivian smiled. “Try the top drawer of the dressing table.”
There would be nothing sweet about it, if everything went to plan. Haros rummaged through the drawers, pausing to eye some of the mysterious lotions and potions he found within. He popped the stopper on a glass bottle containing a particularly viscous looking fluid and sniffed it curiously. It smelt like flowers. He dipped a digit into it and rubbed the substance between his fingers. Haros wasn’t sure what purpose it originally served but the liquid was suitably slippery for what he had in mind. He pushed the stopper back into the neck and placed the bottle on Sivelle’s nightstand.
He heard a faint bell ring from the service chute and made his way across the room. When he slid open the compartment, he found a bottle of expensive looking wine and a crystal glass waiting for him. He turned the bottle over in his hands, appraising it before popping the cork from the neck. Haros took a quick swig, straight from the bottle, before pouring a generous glass for the princess.
He walked to the bath chamber and paused just outside the door. Haros raised his hand to knock but swiftly changed his mind and barged in.
Sivelle startled. “Goodness! Did no one ever teach you to knock?!” The princess sunk her body beneath the thick layer of soapy bubbles bashfully.
Haros ignored her protesting and held out the glass. “Wine?”
Sivelle’s ire was immediately forgotten and she reached for the glass eagerly. She took a sip and groaned with satisfaction, flopping her head backwards over the rim of the tub.
Though disappointed to not be able to get a look at her body beneath the suds, Haros’s eyes locked on the faerie’s exposed throat. He had never found just the mere glimpse of a neck particularly arousing before and yet here he was.
“Delicious,” Sivelle purred, taking another sip. She paused and cocked her brow in Haros’s direction. “What are you still doing here?”
“Oh, sorry. I, uh…” Haros spluttered.
“I’ll call you if I need you for anything.” Sivelle flapped her hand dismissively.
Haros exited the room. He hesitated outside the bath chamber door for a few moments, deliberating over his next move. He could go back inside and offer to wash her back, but would that be too forward? The demon growled beneath his breath with frustration, choosing instead to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace.
Time ticked steadily away. Haros wasn’t sure how long Mivian was going to be in the kitchen, but he knew he was running out of time. If his seduction plan was going to come to any sort of fruition, he needed to get the princess out of her bath as soon as possible.
As if reading his mind, Sivelle appeared at the bath chamber door. Her face was plastered with an angry scowl. She was still covered in soap suds, but had a towel wrapped around her.
“Are you deaf or something? I’ve been calling for you,” she snapped. “I need more wine.”
Haros grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and paused thoughtfully. “Dry yourself off and get on the bed. I’ll pour you another glass of wine in here.”
Sivelle’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”
“If you’re still aching, I was going to offer you a massage.”
Though the princess remained hesitant, Haros spotted the gleam of curiosity in her eye.
“Alright,” she eventually conceded, disappearing briefly into the bath chamber and returning with her empty glass in hand. She clambered to sit on the bed, folding her wings back to rest against the headboard and held out her glass for Haros to fill.
He poured another gen
erous serving out before swapping the wine bottle for the oil. His heart thundered in his chest as he sat at the edge of the bed.
Without a word, he removed the stopper on the oil and carefully poured a small pool of the liquid out into his palm. He placed the bottle back onto the bedside table and rubbed his hands together until they were both coated.
Haros’s mouth was dry. He silently chastised himself for being nervous. Sivelle wasn’t the first woman he had ever done this for – why was he getting himself so worked up over it?
Sivelle curled her toes and he grasped her foot, smearing the oil over her skin before increasing the pressure. He pushed his thumbs into the arch of her foot and Sivelle moaned, sending shivers down his spine.
Sensing the discomfort in the bruised, over-worked flesh beneath his hands, Haros’s healing majicka inevitably responded. He released it steadily and focussed on keeping the tell-tale glow of the enchantment to a minimum, so as not to draw the princess’s attention.
Sivelle sighed heavily and Haros risked a glance over his shoulder. The faerie had her wine glass pressed to her lower lip and was watching his hands beneath heavy lids. He swapped to the other foot and repeated his movements.
Growing impatient, Haros smoothed his hands further up Sivelle’s leg, running over her ankle to rub her calf muscle.
The pain Sivelle was feeling here was much more significant. Healing majicka poured from his hands to combat it. A soft moan was pulled from the princess and Haros shifted, attempting to get more comfortable in the tight leather breeches as his body flickered to life in response.
He continued to massage the muscle for a little while before swapping to the opposite calf.
“That feels good.” Sivelle took another sip from her glass and her eyelids fluttered closed.
“I’m glad,” Haros grated, alarmed at how deep and gravelly his voice had become already. He really needed to rein himself in before things got too out of hand. He slipped an oiled palm over Sivelle’s knee…
The princess’s thighs snapped together and she recoiled from him. “That’s quite far enough, I—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Just drink your wine and let me work,” Haros responded sternly. He leant over to pour out another palmful of oil and smeared it over Sivelle’s firm, toned thigh.
The princess sighed. “Sorry, I forget these sorts of things must be entirely different for you. I’m just not used to being touched like this, that’s all. I’ll try my best to relax.”
Though puzzled – why would he feel any differently about this than any other red-blooded male? – Haros kneaded the thick thigh muscle, imbuing yet more healing majicka into the flesh.
He daringly skirted his hands further and further, until the tips of his fingers brushed the hem of the towel that was barely protecting the princess’s modesty. His brows knitted together in concentration and he pressed a little further.
“Oh, Haros… That feels amazing.”
Haros laughed breathlessly and a fine sheen of sweat beaded at his brow. It was now or never. His body had long since begun to respond to her. His erect cock pulsed impatiently against his breeches.
Haros cleared his throat. “Okay, listen. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m seriously fucking turned on right now. I don’t know if you’re game, but—”
To his surprise, Sivelle’s slippery leg was yanked from beneath his hands, and he turned to look at the princess.
She stared back at him, horrified. Expressions like that were not generally a good sign. He felt his stomach plummet with disappointment.
“What do you mean?!” Sivelle screeched, curling herself away from him.
“I, uh, I’m sorry. I thought—”
“Y-you can’t be turned on! You don’t have the, y’know, ability!”
“Wait, what? You’ve lost me.” Haros frowned.
Sivelle hastily clambered off the bed and got to her feet, pulling her towel tightly around herself. “Well, unless things have drastically changed in the field of castration, I think I know—”
“Whoa, whoa. Hold up, sweetheart. What does castration have to do with any of this?”
“You’re a eunuch, surely you—” The princess paused. “You are a eunuch, right?”
A laugh burst from Haros’s chest. “Uh, no. Not the last time I checked.”
Sivelle’s eyes widened. She ran to her dressing table, grabbed his docket and frantically scanned her eyes over it.
“Yes, you are. It says so right here, clear as day. Harris, thirty-six years of age, male, tattoo identifier… Sex: eunuch!” Sivelle held up the document, pointing at it.
“Thirty-six? Ouch. I’m only thirty-one.”
“You have to be a eunuch! M-my father specifically asked for all the thralls presented to me to be unmanned,” Sivelle spluttered.
“I’m definitely not a eunuch.” Haros laughed.
“B-but you must be!”
“I’m more than happy to prove it to you if you’d like, sweetheart.” He shot her a wide grin.
Sivelle paused, almost as if considering taking him up on the offer before shaking herself.
“Oh no… Oh no, oh no, oh no!” The princess paced, her eyes wide and glassy with shock.
Haros just sat on the bed, watching her.
“I don’t see what the problem is.” He shrugged.
Sivelle cast him an incredulous look before scurrying away into her wardrobe.
“I can’t have a man staying in my chambers at night! It would be wholly improper!” Sivelle shouted from inside.
“Well, I’ve had my balls the entire time I’ve been here and I haven’t done anything improper yet, though I would love to,” he added beneath his breath.
“But now I know you’re… Oh, what am I going to do?!” The princess returned, wearing what appeared to be three layers of clothing. Not an inch of her skin was visible, except her face.
“That’s going a tad overboard, don’t you think?” Haros cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “I’ve already seen the goods now. Talk about after the horse has bolt—Ow!”
Sivelle launched a hairbrush from her dressing table at him.
“Who are you?! I want the whole truth this time!” She glowered across the room.
“You know who I am. I haven’t lied to you, Princess. My name really is Haros and I really was captured saving your sister. I swear I didn’t know that docket said I was a eunuch.” He paused. “Although thinking back on it now, that explains an awful lot.”
“Y-you didn’t know?” Sivelle asked, her ire cooling slightly.
“No, I promise. Look, when I was sent for processing, another demon, Harris, and I got mixed up. I knew I was heading for certain death if I admitted their mistake, so rightly or wrongly, I let it slide. I let them think that docket related to me, but I didn’t for one moment consider I might end up here.”
Sivelle held his gaze for a long moment. Her blue eyes were hardened with distrust.
“I swear to you, Sivelle. I didn’t know,” Haros implored, his tone growing serious.
He watched as the princess’s face softened slightly and she turned away with a scowl.
“Do you believe me?”
“…Yes. I suppose so,” Sivelle admitted, casting him a shy glance from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks flushed furiously and she covered her face with her palms. “You’ve seen me naked!”
“Well, not wholly.” Haros grinned.
“No man has ever seen me naked!” she cried, her voice muffled by her hands.
Haros’s brow quirked with curiosity. Sivelle was a virgin? Interesting. He licked his bottom lip.
“Whilst I’m honoured to be the only member of that club, it’s a crying shame. Really. You look very nice naked.”
“Don’t say things like that!” Sivelle spat, hurling another beauty appliance at him. This time Haros dodged it.
He laughed. “Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Because it’s embarrassing, that’s why! I’ve never felt so fooli
sh in my life!”
Just at that moment, Mivian returned and walked into the bedroom, oblivious. She paused and glanced between Sivelle and Haros with a quizzical expression.
“Honestly, I leave you alone with her for an hour and you’ve already managed to upset her?” Mivian raised her eyebrows at Haros.
“Hey, I didn’t—”
“He’s not a eunuch, Mivian! I was right to be suspicious!” Sivelle spluttered.
“Good grief… Do I want to know how you came to find this out, Princess?” Mivian smirked.
“Oh, not you too!” Sivelle glowered, turning her back to stare into the fire.
The handmaiden shot Haros a perplexed look. The demon shrugged.
Still holding his gaze, she silently formed a circle between her forefinger and her thumb and, holding it up to him, slid the index finger of her other hand into the circle – the indisputable hand sign for ‘sex’. Mivian nodded her head towards Sivelle curiously.
Haros barely contained a laugh and shook his head, paused and then shrugged, trying to convey that they hadn’t been intimate, but he would definitely be up for it.
Mivian’s mouth curled into a sly smile and she glanced between him and Sivelle once more.
“Come now, Princess. It’s not the end of the world,” Mivian soothed, shooting Haros a grin over her shoulder as she approached Sivelle.
“Is it not? Certainly feels like it!” Sivelle scoffed angrily.
“Haros is still your thrall and he’s still your sentry. You were so happy to finally be able to walk freely about the castle again. Haros being… intact changes nothing.”
“Y-you know how I feel about these sorts of things, Mivian,” Sivelle whispered.
Haros turned away chivalrously from the conversation, but his ears strained to listen to the girls as they talked between themselves quietly.
“I know, Princess, but do you not think maybe it’s time to face your fears, head on?” There was a pause. “It’s been so lonely for you since your sisters left. Why not embrace a bit of excitement?”