Too much time has been wasted already, she desperately thought. If he takes as much time with his love-making as he does everything else, I'll be lucky if he's done with me by this time tomorrow. On the other hand, that wouldn't be undesirable if only we had the time. And if we had all that time to spare, those wonderfully musical hands of his could be composing an innovative and virtuoso symphony, possibly something of the like even he'd never imagined before. A delicious chill went through her at the idea, while at the same time a burning warmth arose in her cheeks. WhatamIthinking?Idon'tevenwanttobedoingthis.
A quick sharp tap at the door snapped Aria out of her reverie.
"Please, come in," she said. When the door did not open, she called out again, "Come in!"
The door opened, and he strode through, looking every inch the dark magician. In his hands were a few small, glass vials filled with different colored liquids.
Her anxiety now having peaked for the evening, Aria trembled slightly and said, "Erik, we don't have time to spare. If you could manage, I'd very much appreciate a brush and simply something to untangle my hair."
"Absolumment,macherie. I've had some things brought for you," he said as he set the bottles on the counter. "This is supposed to untangle your curls. And these are some soaps and salts, if it's not too late to add them."
"Thank you so much, Erik. Of course it's not."
With that out of the way, she began scrubbing at her delicate skin and watched as the slivery paint flaked off. The diamonds that were so artistically placed on her hands and arms were still embedded in her skin, however, and they posed a slightly painful problem. Whenever she picked at one, if it did come off, her skin would bleed and there was now a small laceration in the rough shape of a circle. Realizing that this looked even worse than the jems themselves, she decided to leave well enough alone and continue rubbing at the paint. Erik noticed the tiny lacerations and looked at her with mute understanding. He brought her pin-pricked skin to his lips and gently kissed each of the tears.
As she cleansed her body under the soap bubbles, Erik was working on the mess that was her hair. The sensations that coursed through her body as he gently wound his fingers in and out were nothing short of indescribable. He massaged the oil into her scalp and began to work through the tangles with a brush. She felt her eyes begin to close, while trying desperately to focus on the task at hand.
Naturally curly and thick, it was nothing short of a miracle what the khanum's women had been able to do with it. The typically unruly curls were smoothed and tamed and twisted into elaborate patterns on the back of her head. She knew it would have been hopeless had she tried to untangle them herself; she realized soon after they were finished that her hair was not so much held in place by pins, but intricately woven in upon itself, time and again.
He tugged at a rebellious strand of hair, and despite all his kindness and thoughtfulness, the fact remained that he was a murderer, and a torturer at that. Plus, she had to lie with him in order to live. It was rather twisted that to escape certain cruel death at the hands of a sadist she had to love him instead.
Then again, life was full of beautiful ironies like that, wasn't it? Perhaps she was being too hard on him. After all, the life he'd had to lead was certainly not easy. He mentioned something of a normal life before, ending presumably when a girl died. He'd never said how she'd died, only indicated that it was somehow his fault. Or, rather, the fault of his devilish face.
The thought of that face still made her terribly empty stomach jolt. It was unbelievably hideous. If she had encountered it in a traveling fair, freak show, or even medical journal, she doubted that she would have ever thought it could be real. Some type of stage makeup, or expertly crafted mask, was undoubtedly what her reasoning would have been. His face was truly something you had to see to believe, yet even upon seeing it one wanted nothing more than not to believe.
Suddenly, she realized that the once-warm water had grown uncomfortably cool, and the gentle hands had stopped worrying at her hair. She abruptly turned around, and saw no signs of Erik anywhere. Noticing a large towel that had not been there before, she stood and dried herself off. Cautiously, she stepped into the hallway, scarce daring to breathe as she listened for some sign of him. The way he was constantly disappearing and reappearing still made her uneasy, as though he could catch her unawares at any time.
She proceeded down the hallway and past the main room, where black gauzy curtains billowed and danced in the wind. The cool night air brought goose bumps to her skin, and she clutched the towel to herself. Something in the way the drapes were moving reminded her of balls and grand parties, and couples waltzing. The music was playing in her mind; one,two,three;one,two,three it went, spiraling around and around. Unknowingly, she began to dance in the hallway, spinning to the quartet in her head. When it stopped, she ceased to dance, and flushed with embarrassment. How silly, to be dancing with oneself, especially when there is no music about. Her embarrassment turned to shame when she realized that in the midst of her dancing, she'd lost her towel. Off the floor, she seized the truant covering and ran straight into the magician's bedroom.