To Make a Kinder Children's Tale

13: Good Morning

Esme woke to a single finger tracing the outline of her jaw-irritating as hell, so she was more waking up to smacking his hand away than his actions. "Stop."

Of course it was hard to get even that word out, without her lips brushing his chest. Strange how his touching her face left her feeling like her world was too small, yet burrowing into his side was perfection. If he would just quit touching her, she could sleep another hour. She didn't understand herself, let alone what he thought of her contrary ways.

Althalos' laughter rumbled through his chest, buzzing the cheek and part of her forehead that still touched him-it was a nice full sound, not deep or high for a male, just as full-no, rich-as everything else about him seemed to be. "It's time to get up for the day."

She wanted to whine about that. "What am I facing today?"

"First thing is whatever absolution you need to not smell like weeks old alcohol."

This was not the first time he insulted her-and she couldn't let it pass without comment again. "You're saying I stink?"

"I grew accustomed, and you had far more pressing needs, but yes."

Esme peeled herself away from him to sit up. She stared at him with a touch of disgust. "You don't have a sense of romance at all, do you?"

The Aelif spent his time grinning at her. "I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut last night. Now go, take the door to the right. I'll give you a half hour to yourself. Anything longer, and I will join you."

She was not enough of a morning person to be as amused by the mild threat.

~~~

Esme drew her own bath-barely understanding how the room worked-nearly yelping when the twisting of knobs brought forth two seperate streams of water-one as hot as a kitchen pot, the other more miserably frigid. They didn't have much plumbing in the Shards. Stopping the drain was simpler, since the bung was built into the tub. But her biggest confusions were the soaps-half a dozen on the edge of the tub, each more cloying than the next-to her at least. She chose the least objectionable, soaked in the tub for a moment before scrubbing down.

The former thief did make it through the bath and was wrapping herself before Althalos strode in. She placed her wrist to her nose and sniffed it, trying to keep her lip from curling in disgust. Damn the man for being right. "I can't say that this is any better, M'Lord."

Althalos frowned at the formality, but obligingly leaned in to breathe the scent from her hair, managing to keep a bit more control over his own expressions than she did. "I agree. What scent do you prefer in soaps?"

"Just soap, nothing else. Scents make it so people can smell you before you arrive."

That puzzled the man a bit. "Then how did you abide smelling like a whole tavern for nearly a month?"

"I didn't. I don't like the smell of a heavy drinker any more than you do."

"Well, that explains why you chose not to hit me this morning." His laughter surrounded her entirely in the hard space.

The former thief huffed out an exasperated sigh for that thought. "No, that isn't an option because we have to live together. I expect most of our life to be pretty insulting, so if I hit you for one thing I'd wear my hands out on beatings. I've seen couples like that. It never ends well."

Althalos broke out in a lazy grin, which looked far too good on his lips, so she forced herself to stare into his too-large eyes-a marginally better practice for remaining steady. That is, as long as he stayed away from his natural intensity-which she noted was very lax when he laughed.

"I've never thought of it in quite that manner, but I am relived to hear you feel this way. Now, hold still."

The braw Aelif was no more clad than she. His chest rippled as he leaned forward to reach around her wrap and touched her just above the collarbone. He gave a command in his native tongue and it was like the knobs on the tub-every pore she owned opened and drenched her in a near-feverish sweat. His next command caused the fount to stop, leaving her more foul than before she bathed, coated in a thin tarry substance that almost glued the towel she wore to her skin.

"What did you do?" Esme nearly yelped her question out, she was so off-kilter. Here was one of those insulting moments, with no warning.

"I forced the worst of what remained to the surface. It would have taken a week to get most of that out."

"Well, I'm going to have to bathe all over again, and how the hell am I going to get this off me?" She was picking at the towel, trying to get it loose, but it didn't want to respond to a gentle prying.

"I can help you."

The look she gave him was both skeptical and conveyed the idea that she thought he had done more than enough already. Althalos bit back on his laughter as he suspected she wouldn't appreciate it at all. Of course, that mirth danced in his expressive eyes and didn't fool Esme a bit.

"This film is disgusting, and we're both already well-pleasured. I promise, my mind won't be on giving you trouble. Much."

That brought a twitch to her own lips. Esme gave in and found her second bath far more productive than her first.