He stalked through the arches, and I followed.
As I stood in the doorway to his bedroom, directly across from me was a hearth, flanked by two velvet armchairs, and a sofa to the right. An ornately carved mantel had nothing on it but a copper kettle. Further to the right, through stone arches, I spotted a small bathroom with a round, copper tub.
To my left, a large bed was nestled between bookshelves, with more shelves arching over it.
God, this place was amazing. Apart from the murderous angel who also inhabited it, I never wanted to leave.
Samael pulled a book from a shelf and dropped into a chair by the fireplace. I had the feeling that he did that every night, and it suddenly felt strangely domestic in here. He even had two little ceramic mugs on a bedside table, as if he were a normal person and not a murdering death god.
He didn’t look at me. “You didn’t sleep much. Sleep on the sofa.”
Oddly … considerate. Was he trying to beguile me?
Well he would find the tables turned, because I would be seducing him. Making him vulnerable.
All I knew was I'd have to be quick on my feet, and I'd have to be subtle.
As I peered at the books by his bed, I paused. It was my magpie instinct again, and something caught my eye. A glimmer of gold behind the dusty books.
I crawled over his bed. Curiosity compelled me to take a closer look, and I realized it was the frame of a painting. At the edge of the canvas, I caught a glimpse of vibrant red curls, and a dress with the puffed sleeves of antiquity, a hint of an ornate collar.
"Why have you got a painting hidden behind your books?” I asked.
To no one's surprise, he simply responded, "That's not something you need to know. Will you go to sleep, or will I be listening to you inspect everything in here?”
“Just curious.”
“Curiosity can be dangerous,” he murmured.
“Why do you always wear that cloak?”
“It’s almost like you didn’t hear what I just said.”
But he pulled down his cowl anyway. Even though I’d seen his face before, his beauty was as shocking and stark as the carvings in the next room. I was sure his features had been lovingly carved by God, a careful hand sculpting his avenging angel. A slight furrow etched between his eyebrows as he read his book.
Looking at his face felt like I’d stumbled into a forbidden sanctuary of a church, a place where people like me weren’t allowed.
If I had to seduce him to save my country and avenge the dead, it wasn’t the worst thing that he looked like that.
His gaze flicked up to me again. “Will you sleep now?”
I took off my own damp cloak and draped it over one of the chairs before the fire. Despite the flames, the size of the hall meant it was freezing in here.
When I looked back at Samael, he had gone completely still. His eyes slowly brushed down my body, pausing at my breasts.
It was only then that I realized the rain had made my nightgown completely see-through. The curves of my breasts were on display, nipples peaked. A draft in the hall rushed over me like a sea wind.
I felt a surge of warm magic rush off Samael. My heartbeat seemed so loud, I felt like it was echoing off the high ceiling. With what looked like a tremendous effort, he pulled his gaze up off my breasts, meeting my eyes again. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
This was working.
“I’m cold from the rain.” I crossed my arms below my breasts. “Maybe I could take a bath. Just to warm up a little bit.” I nodded at the bathroom. “I saw that you have a bathtub in there. ”
He cocked his head. “Are you planning something? Some sort of machination?” He spoke quietly, but his tone had a sharp edge to it that made my spine straighten.
“Planning something?” I stepped even closer to him, my breasts only about six inches from his face.
But he was keeping his gaze locked on mine, and his eyes seemed to be darkening to a deep color of flames. After a moment he closed them, and leaned back in his chair. There was something about him that felt so much like a caged beast, a quiet sort of control that could snap at any moment. If I said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing, my death could be brutal and swift.
Or perhaps something else would happen …
The line deepened between his eyebrows as he opened his eyes again, now returned to pale gray. “I actually don't care if you take a bath. It doesn't matter to me at all.”
Given the tenseness of his muscles, I didn’t believe him.
“Okay.” I smiled.
I crossed through the stone arches to the bathroom—an octagonal space, with a copper tub on a raised dais. Tall windows gave a view of the stormy skies outside, and candlelight danced over a stone floor.
I turned on the tap, filling the tub with warm water. Shivering, I peeled off the wet nightgown. The cool air raised goosebumps on every inch of my naked skin. I felt acutely aware that at any moment, he could glance through the arches and see me completely exposed.
I shot a glance back at him to see if he was paying attention, but he was making a determined effort not to. Draped in his armchair, a book in his lap.
Steam curled from the bath as it filled, and I stepped into it. Would he be like Cassius—my posh former lover? Because all I had to do with Cassius was take my clothes off, and I had him mesmerized for the next twenty minutes. Which was perhaps generous. Ten minutes, maybe.
And in the Bibliotek Music Hall, I’d seen the real expert seductresses at work. When the burlesque dancers took the stage, they often pulled up a wide-eyed reveler from the crowd, sat him down in a chair. The dancer would slowly peel off her clothes, flashing a little bit at a time—just a hint of nipple, a bit of thigh. It was slow, controlled, a rising crescendo of desire, of breasts brushed against cheeks, fingers stroked over chests. It was a balance between the hidden and the revealed. Always, the man would look at the dancer like he’d been awestruck.
Of course, Samael would be more difficult, tightly wound and unearthly as he was. I needed to catch him completely off guard. The fact that I confused him seemed promising.
I dipped a toe into the bath, then climbed into the hot water.
The warmth felt amazing after being in the rain. As I sank into it, my muscles relaxed, and my cheeks and chest flushed.
But Samael’s gaze was intently on his book.
I needed him to look over at me. “Sourial started teaching me to read,” I said.
He was in the middle of turning a page in his book, when he went completely still. He cut me a sharp look. “Why do you bring him up?”
Was that … jealousy? No, that would be insanity. “No reason.” I started tracing circles in the water with my fingers. “You still haven’t told me what this job is. Why do I have to be literate?”
His eyes were on his book again. “I need people to believe that you and I have things in common. If you don’t read, we can have little in common.”
“Why?”
He closed his book with a loud crack, and he stood, crossing over to the archway that separated us. I wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging them closer. So much for being seductive.
I thought I saw the ghost of dark wings swooping behind him. “I need a wife. My dreams tell me it should be you.”
I swear I stopped breathing for a moment.
Seems he was the one catching me off guard.