MATED TO THE WARRIOR BEAST - Chapter 164 - 164 Squeaky Clean

164 Squeaky Clean

~ HARTH ~

She’d thought the “cleaning” Tarkyn talked about was a euphemism, so she was surprised when, even though he’d caught her at the base of the trail and kissed her, walked her backwards almost the entire way to the cave, teasing and touching the whole way, he released her when they got to the cave.

She just watched him, a little confused at first, while he first made a fire, then as it grew hotter, gathered the largest pot from a cupboard near the fire and held it to the waterfall curtain to fill it, before placing it over the flames, careful not to crush the new embers and burning wood.

When he straightened from that task, he immediately reached back to grab the back of his shirt and tug it forward over his head, curling himself, his abs crunched together and shadowed in the warm glow of the flames.

Harth’s mouth went dry.

He’d just grasped the buckle of his belt when he hesitated and turned, looking for her—finding her still standing near the entrance to the cave.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly.

“I’m fine,” she said—and it was mostly true.

Sure, nerves fluttered in her stomach. There was still a difficult conversation to have about Tarkyn’s loyalty to his Queen and what Zev had told her. But for this moment… for these few hours before they prepared to leave… for now, she would put all of that aside and simply enjoy her mate.

…..

That little voice in the back of her head screamed that this might be her last chance to do so, but she shook it away, refusing to believe it.

They would do this. They would find a way. He would find a way through to Zev, she was sure of it. And Elreth… Elreth seemed to have finally found her humility and clarity.

If only she’d done that a few days earlier.

But that was the moment that Tarkyn smiled and tugged his belt open, letting the strap fall against his thigh as he unbuttoned his leathers, and the rest of Harth’s thoughts fled as he shoved them off his hips so they slumped around his ankles and she was treated to the sight of her mate—every chiseled inch of him glowing near-orange in the flickering light of the flames nearby.

She wanted to throw herself at him, but she forced herself to take a moment to drink in the sight of him—his long, muscular legs, and strong thighs, the little divots at his hips—that plunging V line that started above them and drew her eye down to the part of him that was already waking up to seek her.

And only her.

That thought made her take a deep breath. Because Tarkyn started towards her, still smiling, but his gaze shadowed with worry as well because she wasn’t moving.

She needed to reassure him, but first she would watch the way his muscles rippled when he moved, those long strides eating up the space between them. The broad, flat planes of his chest, and the solid rounds of his shoulders—one dark and dangerous with the tattoos that covered that pec and bicep, the other warm skin—slightly lighter than his arms.

As he reached her, she lifted her hands to the buttons of her own shirt, suddenly desperate to have his skin against hers with no barriers.

“Harth?” he graveled, taking her face in his hands and searching her eyes.

“I can’t take my eyes off of you,” she whispered so that he wouldn’t say anything that might break the spell and force her to think about everything that they wouldn’t be able to avoid in a few hours. “Seeing you… it feeds something in me, Tarkyn.”

He growled his approval at that and pulled her into a kiss, his hands trailing down to help her undress, even as they continued kissing, until Harth stopped trying to get naked and just let him do it, instead exploring his beautiful body and marveling when he shivered under her touch.

But to her surprise, once he had her naked, he didn’t immediately leap on her, or pull her against him—though his body was leaping for her.

No, instead, leaving her clothing in a pile on the floor there, he took her hand and led her back to the cupboard where he’d gotten the large pot, and selected two towels, and two smaller pieces of thick, felted cotton.

Harth frowned when he handed a towel and cloth to her. “What are these for?”

Tarkyn paused, his head jerked back slightly. “I told you… we’re getting clean. Who knows how long it will be before we can bathe again?”

“You were serious?” she squeaked.

“Yes!” he sounded surprised. “I’m sorry if you find it disappointing, Harth. But every soldier knows when battle is imminent, cleanliness is the first step to preparation. Care for your body and it will carry you strong and healthy through the fight.”

“But… I thought we were trying for peace!”

Tarkyn hesitated, his eyes locked on hers and his face serious. “Oh, we are. But make no mistake, we’re facing battle, Harth.” He reached a hand up to cup her cheek, his eyes searching hers. Then to her surprise again, he chuckled. “But don’t worry, love. I know how to make this part fun.”

And he did.

It was a treat, a memory that Harth did everything in her power to fix in her mind at every step, as he led her back towards the entrance to the cave, laying their towels over a small frame there which must have been made for the purpose. But he kept the cloth in his hand, and urged her to do the same, as he led her back to the pot on the flames.

There were several minutes as he tested the water again and again, until it was steaming, but not simmering and he deemed it “ready.”

Then, he used both cloths to protect his hands as he grasped the handles on either side and carried the pot back towards the sheet of Waterfall at the front of the cave, placing it carefully on the ground where the spray from the water made the stones slick and shining.

Then he dropped both cloths into the warm water and turned to where Harth had still been admiring his body, and he smiled.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and rough as he extended a hand towards her.

Harth nodded and took it without hesitation, letting him pull her close and kiss her, sighing into it…

Then shrieking when he lifted her and whipped them both straight into the frigid, powerful spray of the waterfall.