That Prince Is A Girl: The Vicious King’s Slave Mate Novel

Chapter 610: "Your bath is ready, my lord," she said, standing in front of him now.

His eyes snapped open, startled. He had actually drifted off?

But just to be clear, he asked, "I slept?"

"You did." A hint of a smile touched her lips. "But only for a few moments." He exhaled a slow breath. "I haven't had a decent sleep in a long while."

Eyes soft, she leaned in closer, her voice tender. "Well, let's get you ready for one now."

Taking his hand again, she guided him to the edge of the tub. Vladya followed without protest, allowing her to help him undress.

The heat of the water enveloped him as he sank into it, his shoulders dipping beneath the surface. He let out a low, relieved sigh.

Kneeling beside the tub, Aekeira reached for a clean cloth, dipping it into the water before wringing it out.

She pressed the damp cloth to his neck, wiping gently, soothing him. Vladya relaxed further with each tender touch.

She wiped his arms and hands, her thumbs brushing over the calluses on his palms. Reaching for a small vial of soap, she poured a modest amount into her hands, lathering it before spreading it across his shoulders and back. At some point, he must have fallen asleep again. Because when he opened his eyes, the bath was over, and she was gently urging him out of the tub.

She helped him dress, and now he stood in his nightclothes, her hands guiding him back to the bed.

"Here," she said, holding up a small bottle of potion and bringing it to his lips. "Drink this."

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When had Yaz brought the potion? He didn't remember hearing the door, but it didn't matter. The liquid slid down his throat with a faintly bitter aftertaste. He was so sleepy, his eyes barely open.

"This will sting a bit." She pressed a damp cloth to the cut on his cheek, just beside his scar.

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she dabbed at his wounds-beside his mouth, near his shoulder blade. Her scent was like an elixir of some sort.

Vladya kept breathing deeply, drawing more of it greedily into his lungs.

But all too soon, she pulled away. He almost groaned at the loss, but then the bed dipped behind him, and he felt her presence again as she climbed on.

She repeated the process, this time on the claw marks raked across his back.

"You smell good enough to eat," Vladya purred. Then stiffened, realizing how feral it might sound, and quickly rephrased. "I mean… really, really good."

"Thank you, my lord."

He could hear her smile in the breathy words.

With a sigh, Vladya leaned back, burying his nose against her neck and stuffing his lungs full of her scent. Goodness gracious.

For a male who had lived without a loving feminine touch for centuries, he was beginning to feel like an addict.

Two weeks without her, and you are a mess. You are provoked too easily, picking fights like a youngling.

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