Escape to the Sea (Tangled Hearts #1)

Chapter 16 Manse of Desire

Tomlyn

Nothing about the Wyrd Sea should surprise me anymore. And yet.

The creature watches the three of us, and suddenly I feel like a bug under a glass. They look at the table where Ephraim and I had nearly started to eat our fill, and then back at us. I remember Sylf’s hesitance when we came into this place. My hands itch for my jagerstocks, worried about what this… being will do. But then they start to smile.

Fantastic. Maybe we don’t solve this problem with stabbing; maybe we let the problem untangle itself first.

“It’s been quite some time since we’ve had guests. Especially beautiful ones,” the being says. Their voice shifts back and forth in pitch, in time. It’s like even they aren’t quite sure what they are supposed to be.

I look at the other two, and then back at the creature. “So… who are you?” I try in Kastii. Maybe it will understand me. That would make things easier.

“Mmm, names have power… What is yours?” they reply, looking at their hands.

I think about it for a moment. What name would I give to a creature like this? I look at Sylf, who's still-as-stone look tells me everything I need to know. “Baker. You can call me Baker. And you?”

“Well, we are in a mischievous mood. Maybe we should call ourselves Mischief, then. Maybe we should call ourselves Eternity? Do you mortals still worship him?”

“I don’t think your name is Eternity,” Ephraim says, slowly walking to stand at my side. “He wouldn’t be in this realm, on this plane. No, you’re something older.”

The being leans down, inspecting Ephraim. Their eyes flare with gold, the same as Ephraim’s for a moment, before they settle back into a nut brown. “Yes, very clever. We suppose we shall have to call ourselves something else,” they say, and stand back to their original height. They are roughly the same height as me in their current shape, but who knows how large they actually are.

My mind starts wandering to all the things I want to do to them… My hands slipping over their hips, down their thighs, their head thrown back—what the fuck?

I shake my head to clear the thoughts away, blinking to refocus my vision, only for those images be replaced by something much more familiar: a tiny pink heart-shaped birthmark in a sea of lavender, and muscles shifting under molten gold skin.

Their laugh breaks me out of their reverie, and they look to the other two. “You can call us Desire, if you wish. In our most pure, distilled form, we suppose that is all there is.”

Desire.

Oh yeah, we’re fucked.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Sylf says, a genuine look of curiosity on her face. She stands a certain way, with all the posture and etiquette she probably learned a lifetime ago. She offers this ancient gods-know-what thing a bow in the elven manner, and Desire returns it.

“Oh, we insist, the pleasure will be ours. We welcome you under our roof.” Their lips curl into a smile, the shape pink and thin, too much like Sylf’s. “Right now, it’s clear what you three desire. In this immediate moment, you desire a proper bath, per your young clever friend, a place to relax, based on the knowing elf, and, from you? A good hot meal. Let us fulfill at least one of your desires, if not two, before we let you get back to dinner.”

With that, they turn and glide away, through the first set of doors that we hadn’t opened, and down the hall. We follow.

I look up first, old charger instinct. A fat lot of good that does me. I can barely tell whether we’re in or out. I never had a head for all this organic stuff. Ephraim hangs close to Sylf, carefully stopping and observing every small bloom that gives off light and particles. He leans forward and gently brushes his fingers against the bubbled texture of one of the leaves. I shake my head and keep moving; Karst is a world of stone, of darkness. This place is the exact opposite.

The walls are still shifting and flexing into place as we walk. Small stone footrests emerge from large pools full of fish I’d never seen before. Overhead, brilliant birds in every color settle on any flat space they can find, adding color and sound to an unnaturally bright, unnaturally loud space.

Desire finally stops in front of a door and waves it open with an impatient hand. They then turn and gesture for all three of us to go through it. “Clever one—hopefully this will fulfill your desires.”

As we pass the threshold, my stomach flips. It’s clear that this room, wherever it is, doesn’t necessarily connect with the last. And with good reason.

There’s technically a body of water in it. It’s technically a ‘bath’. There are, at this end, a few chaise longues with soft cushions that frame the edge of the pool. But off in the distance, I can start to make out clouds? Mountains? Birds flying, like tiny specks against the hazy pink of the sky.

Closer, there’s a waterfall, awash with a hundred different plants in every shade of green I knew and others I didn’t. The water rushes down into the far edge of the pool, maybe the length of a city block in the Throat. On our side, there are simply a set of softly sloping steps, with witch lights glowing up from the bottom of the pool. The water is clear, hot enough to have steam rising from it, and smells faintly of roses.

No, I am never going to get used to this place.

Desire gestures to a small counter which has a few tasty-looking fruits—pomegranates, a tumble of light orange grapes—and then turns back to us. “We’ll have clothes for you over there, when you’re ready for them. But for now, take the time you need… It seems as if you have had a long journey.”

“Thank you, Desire,” Ephraim says.

They nod, give a brief bow, and glide out.

Ephraim looks about for a moment after that and then pales. “Wait… Where are the changing rooms?”

I can’t help the snort of laughter that comes out of me, as I walk to one side, kicking off my boots and tossing my holster and satchel down on top of it. “That’s a good one, cutie.”

“I am hoping that is something lost in translation,” Ephraim says, looking at me. “What do you mean?”

“Why do we need rooms?” I grin, quickly unbuttoning my vest and tossing it down, starting to reach for the hem of my shirt.

He stares at me in horror as I finish stripping down, taking off my socks, pants, and smallclothes and dropping them in an undignified heap on the ground. As soon as they leave my person, the clothes, the boots, and the weapons all melt away into the ground.

“I’m gonna need those back, mystery house!” I call out in Kastii to no one and nothing in particular, and then stroll towards the bath. I turn to Sylf. “Circles, maybe? You like circles.” I make circular, floating motions in the air.

“Bubbles?” She asks, amused. “I can bathe perfectly well without my bubbles. Did you forget that cavern lake so quickly?” she says back, pulling her gloves off first and gently laying them down on the counter. Her movements are quick, practiced, no effort wasted as she strips down.

Ephraim stares at both of us as if we were some new Sea oddity never before observed. “Good heavens, what are you two doing?”

“Taking a bath? You’re the one who wanted this,” Sylf says, looking at him for a moment, and then looking away. She gives me a look that sends a shiver down my spine.

Do people really need to eat? I can think of other things that are much more enjoyable.

Ephraim continues to gape like one of the fish in Desire’s ponds out front, and then turns away as Sylf takes off her leathers.

She lays them flat on the ground like she does at home when she first strips out of them, before she has a chance to clean and re-oil them, and then unceremoniously pulls her shirt up and over her head.

Ephraim is standing, honest to Periti, with his hands over his eyes. Sylf rolls her eyes and gives me an exasperated look over her shoulder.

I mean, I was shocked the first time I saw Sylf completely naked. The fact that she wears no stays, no bodices, nothing underneath has never bothered me any; it makes the next part much faster, and therefore much more fun, but it certainly took some getting used to.

“Ephraim. Look at me,” she finally says.

He doesn’t move. “You’re not dressed. That’s… unbecoming, improper, inappropriate!” he snaps, with a firm shake of those golden curls.

“Yes. She is hot,” I say with a wink. Sylf gives me a haughty smile.

“Honestly, you humans and all your hang-ups. It’s so very tiring,” she sighs. “No wonder your lives are so short. You spend so much of your time worrying about what is and is not proper. It’s a bath. You came into this world naked. You may leave this world naked. There’s nothing wrong with the naked form. It’s the most natural thing in the world.” She slips out of her leather pants, lays them flat, and then pulls her leggings off and rolls them up neatly.

Fully naked now, she starts to walk towards the water. “So, are you going to come in and enjoy the bath? Or are you going to glue yourself to the stones and hope someone comes to save you?”

At first, Ephraim doesn’t move. I shrug. This is the best-looking thing in the world to me right now, after four days of sun and sweat and bugs. I don’t remove the totem around my neck. Bugs are tricky that way.

I pull myself down into the water and sigh as the heat sinks into my muscles. “Your loss, cutie!” I call back before I duck my whole head under.

Nothing has ever felt better than this. I stand up, catching my breath and tossing my hair back with a wild flick, grinning at Sylf. I could certainly get used to this.

She sets a foot in the water and I watch the same reaction spread on her face—she looks relaxed, blissful, as she steps in. As she settles, the water around her turns pink, and the ripples turn into pearlescent pink bubbles. Sylf giggles, playing with one with her fingers in the water before she pulls her hair out of her tight braids.

“I suppose I’ll have bubbles after all,” she says. She steps further into the water, her hair spreading in whorls around her. Damn, she’s gorgeous. We find a rocky outcropping beneath the water to sit on and the water comes up to Sylf’s collarbones, the water obscuring my view of her perky breasts. Rude.

There’s a small cough and then, “Make some room for me, please.”

Ephraim stands at the edge of the pool. He is stripped down, somewhat: his boots and socks are off, his shirt is off.

I was right. I knew he was hiding something magical under all those clothes. I don’t know what he does to look like this. I thought that all these little lordlings did was sit around all day, eating pastries and arranging flowers.

But Ephraim is a cut above. His shoulders are well-sculpted, his arms are athletic, and I’m already picturing how his arms flex and strain as he practices with his quarterstaff.

His torso is defined… mouth-watering.

From the corner of my eye, Sylf is assessing him as well, her eyes flicking over his body the same way I did. She shares a look with me. See, I knew we both had good taste in men!

But his pants are still on, even as he slips into the water. He waits until the water fully covers him to pull the soaking wet clothes off and drop them in a heap on the side of the baths.

“That’s one way to get in,” I mutter. I shift to make room, and now that he’s in the water he moves to sit between the two of us, resting on the edge and sighing with pleasure.

“It’s nice,” he admits, and pulls his hair out of its tight bun. The golden curls fall to his shoulders in soft waves.

He doesn’t look real, like he’s one of the heroes in Sylf’s books. There should be a sunbeam that breaks out behind him as he smiles. Fuck, what a cutie.

“I’m glad you came,” I say, still in shit Elvish. I lean back and rest my arms against the edge of the pool. He takes a moment to parse what I said, and then looks pleased.

“Me too,” he replies, quickly dunking his head under to wet his hair and pull it up and off his shoulders.

With his hair slicked back tight against his skull, his cheekbones are somehow sharper than they were before, his jawline defined. I want to run my teeth against it. But I’m not even sure if he’ll let me hold his hand. Damn.

But Sylf is right here, gorgeous, strong, and here for me, no matter what. Her look is still guarded, but that’s changing the longer she stays in the water, giving way to curiosity and, inevitably, her insatiable hunger.

“So, how much danger are we in?” Ephraim asks, shifting to look over to Sylf.

She shrugs. “I’m only familiar with the Sea in the vaguest sense. I don’t know how each denizen operates. But they opened their home to us, allowed us safe passage. I don’t trust them, but I’m not going to turn down a nice bath and a hot meal either. Just don’t make any deals.”

“You mean any more deals.”

He bristles as he looks at me. I roll my eyes. “The Mother is cool. She likes me,” I say. “She wants me to come back and visit.”

“Not icy. She’s cool, you mean? She likes you? Well, I’m still not entirely sure how you’re going to come visit,” Sylf says with a snap. “But…”

“But?”

“It was good, getting those gifts from her. I’ve never seen you fight like that,” Sylf says, her voice shy. I shift in my seat. I’ve seen that look in her eyes before; typically right before she sucks my soul out through my cock. I guess I should show off more often.

“Yes, you certainly know how to put on a show, Tommy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move like that. I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”

The sound of his voice makes me lightheaded and giddy. I feel drunk. He’s watching me too and he shares a look with Sylf that makes me break out in a sweat. Sylf looks pleased and beckons me closer.

I look at her, and then flick my eyes over to Ephraim. He seems more relaxed sitting next to Sylf, staring at me, his cheeks flushed and his gaze never wavering. I lick my lips once and then push off the bench, going out into the pool of water and ducking under again.

When I emerge, Sylf’s back is to me, her front to Ephraim. She’s saying something to him, but his gaze flicks past her, burning holes in me that reach my chest, my shoulders, further. Fuck. I can’t have the both of them gang up on me. I really won’t be able to keep my head on straight.

“Need help, babe?” I ask. I need to do something. Anything other than letting Ephraim’s gaze devour me helplessly.

She nods, and I lean forwards to kiss her neck gently. Her head lolls back against mine, her body melting into me. Ephraim bites his lip, full, pouty, and I feel dizzy. Maybe it’s the heat of the water, or maybe there’s some mystery beneath the bubbles.

Having his eyes on me, having my hands on her. It’s perfect.

Reaching under the waves, a bowl is waiting for me, and I pull it up to pour warm soapy water down her back. As I work out the knots in her shoulders, Ephraim starts to reach forward, but then stops himself. I almost want to reach out to him. I want to tell him to stop holding back. But who am I?

“So, we spend the night? Eat our fill, hope we don’t get stuck here?” Sylf asks.

Ephraim runs his hand over his collarbone and the necklace, drawing my attention to it. Does this cheeky little Aurelian know the effect he’s having on me? It’s not like I’ve kept it hidden, I guess.

“We still have this,” he says, gesturing to the necklace.

I check out the leaves. Half of them have lost their glow at this point, and the sun has started to dim. It’ll be early tomorrow morning at this rate, perhaps a full day of traveling before we are hopefully brought back to real world, where I’m a criminal, she’s a spy, and he’s… he’s a prince.

Fuck me, what are we doing?

“You seemed drawn to that golden barrier. Perhaps that will help us figure out the missing phrase? Or, we can try and have Desire help us, but we have to be careful. We don’t want to make any deals.”

“Maybe the Mother can help?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she muses.

She leans back into me, her hand slipping from my thigh to between my legs. I try as hard as I can to not yelp or groan when she rests her hand gently on my cock, the languid grasp of her fingers on my length driving me crazy.

I guess the discussion is tabled, for now. I’m not going to complain, that’s for sure.

I continue to wash her, and she continues to lazily touch me. It’s not sexy, not really, but her hands on me are both sensual and relaxing.

Ephraim, sensing the break in tension, strides deeper into the pool. I follow his movement, watching the way his back muscles bunch and ripple as he lets his fingers graze over the water. He cleans himself, occasionally stealing glances at me and Sylf.

I spend the time getting reconnected with Sylf’s body—the way her nipples tighten in the cooling water, the leanness of her limbs. Even though she’s smaller than me, she’s athletic and strong, a hunter through and through. She’s so unbelievably sexy. I lean in to kiss a light pink mole on her shoulder and whisper in her ear. “Fresh and clean, babe.”

“Thank you, Dur?n .”

I’ve heard her call me Dur?n a hundred times, seen the way her light green eyes gleam with lust, with satisfaction, with the thrill of victory. But the tenderness I like the most. Hers.

“Your turn,” she says and motions for me to spin. I do, and I lock eyes with Ephraim.

He’s in the middle of scrubbing a stubborn spot on his forearm, but when he sees me, he finishes his work and pulls his hair back up and into a tight bun. With his arms up over his head, I can’t help but stare at his body. He’s so well put-together. The prince gives me a devastating smile. Periti be good.

With Sylf’s hands on me, her focus is less tender; she’s assessing me for cuts, bruises, things that can scar.

And Ephraim’s golden, molten gaze is taking me in, slowly roaming my body. Maybe it is something in the water.

“Did it hurt?” he asks.

“Did what hurt?”

“When you got your tattoos?”

“Oh, no. It stings but there’s no pain.”

Ephraim nods. “The skin is sensitive to touch?”

The heat burns in my cheeks as his hands softly caress his own body, tracing lines against his own chest, as if it were me.

“It’s sensitive to touch. He likes it when I run my teeth and tongue over it, too,” Sylf says.

Ephraim returns Sylf’s gaze. “Definitely something to think about.”

“Okay. Bathtime is over!” I say standing and getting up. Sylf laughs, sharp and biting, and Ephraim looks back to the waterfall, also clearly amused.

Am I a chickenshit coward for bailing out first? Absolutely. Do I actually want us to make it to dinner? Maybe. But I know I can’t take much more of this. Fuck me. Maybe I should start reading those bodice rippers Sylf has in her library at home, build up my tolerance.

I walk towards the small counter and find a stack of towels and three neat piles. One is simply marked with a paper placard with ‘Baker’ in impeccable font and the other two read ‘Clever One’ and ‘Knowing Elf.’

I look at the clothes. They are clearly not mine, but they are rich silk, like the bolts from an ancient majorina . I slip the robe over my shoulders, but instead of a shirt, or a tunic, or anything, there’s just a tiny slip of shorts, smaller than the small clothes I normally wear. Yeah, there is absolutely nothing left to the imagination here. I pull on the matching shorts, and adjust myself to make sure I’m not being… what did Ephraim say? Unbecoming, improper, or inappropriate.

I run my hand through my hair as I offer Ephraim a towel and his pile of clothes. He blushes, but quickly emerges from the bath, drying off and pulling on sheer blue fabric that leaves even less to the imagination. He’s been given a pair of soft satin pants that are baggier at the top and then tighten around his calves. So at least he doesn’t have to worry about which side his cock is resting on.

I finally walk over to Sylf, offering her a hand up, and a towel, and a bundle of fabric even lighter than Ephraim’s.

She looks at the clothes with open disdain. “Do I have to put clothes back on?”

“If we want to eat food, yes.”

Sylf scoffs, and finishes getting dressed. With how she arranges her fabric, I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat. There’s no body part completely covered, and the gauzy sheer pants show every inch of her lean, athletic legs.

“To dinner, then?” Ephraim says, his tone trying and failing not to sound panicked.

Sylf nods. “Lead the way, clever one.”