Chapter 10

A Devil in the Water

The river glistened like liquid gold under the setting sun, its gentle currents whispering against the shore. The scent of lavender soap mixed with the cool, earthy fragrance of the water, creating an atmosphere of serenity and comfort. The air was warm, thick with the lingering heat of the day, and the voices of the other maidens carried softly through the breeze—laughter, gossip, the occasional splash of water as they bathed.

Elowen let out a deep, satisfied sigh as she reached the riverbank. Her feet ached from a long day of endless chores, and exhaustion clung to her body like a second skin. But here, away from the suffocating walls of the palace, the weight on her shoulders felt just a little lighter.

She glanced around, noting the clusters of maidens gathered near the shallow end of the river, some scrubbing clothes against rocks, others submerged up to their shoulders as they shared quiet conversations. Further ahead, a few swam lazily, their laughter echoing across the water.

A rare, genuine smile curled at her lips.

She needed this. A moment of peace, a chance to cleanse herself not just of the dirt on her skin, but of the tension coiled within her.

Carefully, she slipped off her dress, the fabric pooling at her feet. Her long, golden hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, the strands glimmering in the fading light. She moved toward the water, the cool liquid licking at her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs, until she was fully submerged in its warmth.

The sensation was blissful.

She sighed, tilting her head back as the water caressed her bare skin, the gentle ripples lulling her into a sense of calm she rarely allowed herself. Her fingers traced over her collarbone before drifting lower—until they landed on the mark at her neck.

She froze.

The four tiny punctures had long since healed, but the scar remained, as though branded onto her skin. A shiver ran down her spine as she pressed her fingers against it, expecting nothing.

But then, warmth spread from the mark, curling deep in her stomach.

A strange, fluttering sensation, like tiny wings brushing against her insides.

Her breath caught, her mind immediately conjuring him.

Morris.

The devil, the tormentor, the arrogant beast who had forced this wretched mark upon her.

She had spent days trying not to think of him, willing herself to forget the way his golden eyes burned into hers, the way his voice—deep, smooth, and infuriatingly enticing—sent shivers down her spine.

She scowled.

The last thing she needed was to be haunted by that insufferable man while she was supposed to be relaxing.

Without thinking, she muttered under her breath, "Morris, appear here so I can slap the hell out of you."

It was meant to be a joke.

She hadn't expected an answer.

She certainly hadn't expected the water to shift.

A deep ripple surged through the river, like something immense moving beneath its surface. A current pulled around her legs, coiling like an unseen force.

Elowen's heart stilled.

And then—he rose.

The water broke apart in front of her, and Morris emerged.

Dripping wet, his black hair slicked back, water running down the sharp edges of his face, he rose from the depths like a god of the underworld himself. The sun's last light glowed against his golden skin, and his golden eyes—intense, unreadable—locked onto hers.

Elowen's entire body froze.

Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her mind struggling to catch up with the absolute impossibility of what she was seeing.

He was here.

In the water.

With her.

Oh, gods.

A sharp scream tore from her throat as she instinctively covered her chest with her arms, sinking deeper into the water.

Morris tilted his head, his expression unreadable before a slow, dangerous smirk stretched across his lips.

"Oh?" His voice dripped with amusement. "You called, little lamb."

Elowen's face burned. Burned.

"What—" She spluttered, her words coming out in a frantic whisper. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Morris took a lazy step forward, the water rippling around his waist, revealing the broad expanse of his chest—smooth, muscled, far too perfect for a being that claimed to be evil.

"You summoned me," he said simply.

Elowen gaped at him. "I did not!"

His smirk deepened. "You did."

She let out a choked noise of frustration, mortified beyond belief.

"I was joking!" she hissed. "You weren't supposed to actually—"

"And yet, here I am," Morris cut in smoothly, amusement dancing in his golden eyes. "I must say, for a wife, you're rather demanding."

Elowen's breath caught. Wife.

She wanted to strangle him.

Instead, she slapped him.

The sound echoed through the water, her palm stinging from the force.

Morris's head tilted slightly to the side, his smirk unfazed. If anything, he looked delighted.

"Oh, I missed that fire," he murmured.

Elowen seethed. "You pervert! You're in a women's bathing river! Get out!"

Morris grinned. "Why should I?" His gaze flickered downward, darkening slightly. "You're my wife. Why shouldn't I look at you?"

Elowen's breath hitched.

His voice had dipped—lower, richer, sinful.

Her heart was pounding. The water felt too hot.

"Your breasts," Morris mused, his golden gaze shamelessly fixed on her chest, "are rather soft-looking. Round. Tempting, really."

Elowen's entire soul left her body.

Heat exploded in her face as she lunged forward, slamming both hands over his eyes.

"Stop looking!" she cried.

Morris laughed. Actually laughed. A deep, rich sound that sent something fluttering low in her stomach.

"Can't help myself," he teased. "You look rather—" he exhaled, as if restraining himself, "—delicious."

Elowen let out a strangled sound.

She could die. Right here, right now.

One of the maidens swam closer.

"Elowen?" The girl's voice was concerned. "Are you alright? You screamed."

Elowen stiffened. Morris hadn't moved.

But the maiden didn't see him.

Oh gods. He had made himself invisible.

"I—I'm fine," she stammered, forcing a smile. "Just—um—just excited to be bathing."

The maiden gave her a strange look before swimming away.

Elowen turned on Morris, furious.

"Leave. Now."

Morris grinned. "Make me."

Her fists clenched.

His hands moved.

Suddenly, warm fingers brushed against her breasts.

Elowen gasped.

Morris went utterly still.

For a long, silent moment, his golden eyes stared into hers, unreadable.

And then, low, husky, dangerous—

"Damn."

Elowen couldn't breathe.

Morris's hand twitched. His gaze darkened.

Oh no.

This was not good.

Not good at all.