Free Stolen Melody (Snow and Ash #2) by Heather Knight Page B

sleeping, but it feels like I could lie here for ten years. I haven’t smelled vanilla in I don’t know how long, though, and this brings me to my feet. I toss a glance into the mini kitchen, but I don’t see anything cooking on the old-style wood stove.
    The front door opens, and in comes Axel lugging a large bucket of steaming water.
    “’Bout time you woke up,” he says as he passes through the room. He smirks, ruining the whole effect of the rebuke.
    “What—” I wince and press a hand to my swollen face. The skin is tight and my cheek is fat, and I feel about as attractive as a walrus.
    “Thought you could use a bath,” he says, making a left into a room I haven’t yet seen.
    “Thanks a lot.” Now I’m ugly and I stink.
    I follow him inside what turns out to be a small bathroom. There’s a shallow tub, a deep sink, and a composting toilet. Since Axel is toting water in and out via bucket, I assume we don’t have running water. We didn’t have any in Sadie’s Bend, either, but what with all the engineering that went into this place, I was sort of hoping.
    The look he gives me is dark and quelling. Now that he’s finished adding this bucketful, there’s a good six inches of water in the tub. Steam rises up.
    I sniff. “Is that vanilla?”
    He frowns. “Found some of that old shower-gel stuff at the exchange. I didn’t know what kind you’d like.”
    In point of fact, I only like vanilla in my food. Vanilla-scented anything—I hate it. But holy bats, the guy’s actually trying to please me. “Did you do all this for me?”
    He flicks me a look and turns away, blushing. Blushing, for God’s sake. “I figured, you know, you had such a shit day and all.”
    I nod, but I’m nervous. Is he going to bathe me like I’m some kind of sex toy? Is he prepping me for another round of painful sex?
    He nods at a faded navy-blue towel balanced on the sink. “That’s yours. When you’re done, let me know and I’ll take my turn.”
    He cups my face, inspects my cheek, and gets another one of those I’m-going to-fucking-kill-someone looks. Then to my utter astonishment he gives it a soft caress before he turns and leaves me to myself.
    He shuts the door. Softly.
    Share bathwater? Ick! No one, I don’t care who he is, should have to sit in water where someone’s dirty crotch’s just been. I strip off my clothes as fast as I can, grab the washcloth, and give myself a thorough scrub down before I even think of lowering myself into the water.
    The heat drives into my bones and smooths away my tension. This feels rolling-your-eyes-back, luxury-hotel good. When I dip my hair in the water and let the heat sink into my scalp, I’m almost ready to cry. There’s no shampoo, so I use more of that vanilla stuff to scrub my head. I end up using the toothbrush cup to scoop up water and rinse my hair over the composting toilet. Gross, I know, but I don’t want to leave him greasy-dirty-hair bathwater.
    Resigning myself to another night of torture by enormous dick, I give my crotch another scrub. If I’m going to give him the thank you I’m sure he’s expecting, I might as well not smell like fermented ass.
    Why am I being so nice? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that other than him, there’s no one left on the planet who would do for me what he did today. I owe him this, at least.

    I didn’t think to get anything at the exchange to wear to bed, so I lie here in a T-shirt, panties, and a pair of socks. That fire stove does an okay job of heating the place, but I hate being cold. Hate it. I tuck the covers up to my chin and wait for Axel and his huge dick to get here.
    He comes in carrying a handful of candles and wearing a pair of boxers. It’s the first time I’ve seen him this naked. I spot a scar on his upper left chest. Did someone knife him? Shoot him? He’s got those tribal-looking tattoos running back over his shoulder and most of the way down his arm, and he’s got a ripped torso with this