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I undo the harness and mentally promise to make a rather large donation as a repayment before I pinch myself back to Cordelia. I’m winded from the instant travel, but hopefully a few more hours of rest will help.

Cordelia leans back, the tops of her breasts bobbing above the blanket of bubbles. Her wet hair is piled atop her head as she washes her leg, moving carefully around the line of scales.

“There you are. I was getting worried,” she says. “The fire came on by itself.”

“It does that sometimes.”

I strip my shirt off, and she grips the ledge of the tub, dripping water on the floor. “What happened to you?”

I touch the wound on my neck, and she shakes her head, pointing to my abdomen. “No. That.”

I move my hand to the healing gash below my ribs. “The sea witch and I had an unpleasant exchange, but that’s where I saw the kraken’s rune mark, so it was worth it.”

“That’s how you were able to draw the markings so clearly.”

“I wish I’d given them all to you in the first place,” I admit.

“No, undoing the kraken’s bind was too easy. I don’t think it would’ve worked if she didn’t want it to.” She sinks back into the water. “It felt like she was testing me.”

That doesn’t surprise me. Cosette always has an ulterior motive. “I hate that we’re both caught in her trap.”

I lower myself into the tub and run the water again, tipping my head back to scrub my scalp under the spout. I work out the dirt and thoughts of the sea witch.

Cordelia’s eyes narrow in a siren-like gaze. “Maybe something can be done about that. You shouldn’t have to stay away from all of this.”

I will for as long as I have to, though. “Come here and let me wash your hair before you start plotting again.”

“I’m not plotting.”

“You’re always plotting.” I work her knots out with a comb and oil, and use a cloth to wipe the dried poultice away from her neck. The scratch should heal fine.

“I can’t help it. I always like to be working on something.”

“I know. That’s what I love about you.” Her ribs stop moving, and I pause mid-stroke with the cloth, waiting for her to breathe before I run it below her shoulders. “You always have to keep yourself busy, ordered and organized while you’re working with the most chaotic ideas. What’s that word you like to use?” I slide the cloth beneath the water, washing around her breast. “Oh yeah, juxtaposition.” Her body quivers with a laugh, and I continue, “Kind, but willing to be cruel to those who deserve it. Dreamy with a strong sense of justice. A woman who understands rituals and breaks all the rules. A realist who talks to the moon.” I kiss her below her ear. “That’s the juxtaposition of you.”

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll let you wear my monocle.”

I grin as she turns around and faces me, taking the washcloth to squeeze it between my wings. The water trickles past the sensitive membrane, and I shiver.

“They really are sensitive,” she says, dropping the cloth into the tub. She gingerly touches the edge of my left wing, running her finger all the way to the tip.

“Yes.” My breath catches. “You’re the only one who gets to touch them.”

She traces along their outer edges, and they flutter gently, creating ripples in the water. “I like that.”

I’m going out of my head, intoxicated from the steam and the light petting. I want to be the only one to touch her too, but it’s not the kind of demand I can make when she’s about to get married.

If things had gone differently, I’d have gladly flown away and let her have her happiness with her sailor. Maybe I’d have more qualms about sticking around if it didn’t mean entrusting her with a woman who lied, mocked, and hunted her when she gave her the purest version of her heart.

As it is now, there’s no way I’m leaving. I’d never ask her to give up on her ambitions to run off with me, but I want to please her in the secret, stolen hours we can find together.

I don’t even feel bad about it. I don’t care if it makes me a scoundrel.

“I have something for you,’’ I sigh as she trails a finger along the base of my wings. I reach for the bag of stolen goods I left on the platform and take out the harness. “If you want to use it.”

She wraps her slippery hands around the dildo, and my pussy clenches as she strokes the shaft. “Can you use it on me?”

“There’s nothing else I’d rather do.” I remove the dildo and dunk it in the water to clean it, then pat it dry with a towel before fitting it through the silver ring that I lift over my mound.