Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 277

Finn's POV

The steam rose around me, thick and heavy, curling up from the scalding water that filled the vast bathtub. I'd never seen a place like this - marble floors shimmered beneath the flickering glow of golden sconces, their light dancing across walls covered in mosaics of wolves and crescent moons. A stained-glass window loomed high above, a snarling beast etched in hues of crimson and gold, its colors bleeding through the haze. The air choked with lavender, undercut by something feral and musky that clawed at my senses. It was extravagant, luxurious, elegant in a way that crushed me down, made me feel like a rat skulking through a Prince's hall. Lycidas' palace, reborn under his cruel hands, mirrored the Slave Market he'd forged - both dripping in opulence, both cages dressed up as treasures.

I sank lower into the water, the heat biting at my scarred skin, but it couldn't melt the tension coiled in my gut. My fingers traced the edge of the tub, carved from a single slab of white marble, its wolf-head faucets glaring down at me like sentinels. I didn't belong here, not in this steaming paradise, yet here I was, waiting, always waiting for him.

A shadow cut through the mist, tall and unyielding, and I snapped my head up. Lycidas strode in, his dark red bathrobe clinging to his broad frame, the fabric rich as spilled blood. His eyes pinned me, sharp and merciless, stripping me bare before I could even flinch. I curled my legs to my chest, ducking my head, letting my shoulders quake just enough to look pitiful, a trembling mutt caught in his snare.

He crossed the marble floor without a sound and perched on the tub's edge, his gaze raking over me. "How long are you going to stay here?" he asked, voice low, a blade wrapped in silk.

My throat tightened, heart slamming against my ribs. "Your Highness, I'm sorry, I… I'll leave now…" I stammered, the words tripping over themselves as I scrambled to stand. The slick marble betrayed me, my feet slipping, and I crashed back into the water, splashing it across his robe in a reckless arc.

His hands shot out, iron around my waist, hauling me up and onto his lap like I weighed nothing. The heat of him burned through the damp fabric, his scent - blue orchids and the sharp sting of alcohol - flooding my lungs. "Leave?" he snarled, his breath hot against my ear. "Did I allow you to leave?"

I shook my head, water dripping from my hair, streaking down my face. "No, Your Highness," I whispered, barely a sound.

He snatched a towel from the tub's side, soft as sin, and began to wipe my skin, his touch slow, deliberate, unnervingly gentle. I stiffened, my scarred flesh prickling under those slender, powerful fingers as they slid over my arms, my chest, my back. Every stroke left a trail of fire, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think past the hunger clawing up my spine. No one had ever touched me like this, not without a price, not without pain.

"Your Highness, please don't do this to me…" I groaned, the words slipping out, raw and desperate.

He paused, his head tilting, eyes narrowing. "What?"

I grabbed his arm, my fingers trembling, tears stinging my eyes as I bowed my head. "Please don't treat me so gently. No one's ever… I don't deserve it…" My voice cracked, a plea I couldn't choke back.

Lycidas didn't flinch, just kept wiping, his hands steady, torturing me with their care. "How I treat you is my decision," he said, cold as the marble beneath us. "Whether you want it or not, it means nothing to me. You must be punished for your stupid behavior tonight to get my attention. But before that, I need to wash you clean."

The words hit like a lash, promising pain I knew too well, pain I craved despite myself. I slid off his lap, knees hitting the cool floor, and knelt before him, head tipped up to meet his gaze. "Yes, Your Highness, please punish me…" I whispered, letting my lashes flutter, a supplicant's mask.

I leaned in, lips brushing his inner thigh, soft skin against my scarred mouth. I kissed him there, slow, dragging it out, then pressed higher, rubbing my nose, my cheek against him, a beast licking at the hunter's hand. His fingers twisted in my hair, yanking my head back, and his palm cracked across my face, sharp and stinging. I gasped, tears spilling, but he shoved me against the tub's edge, pinning me there.

I braced my hands on the rim, legs spreading, hips lifting as I arched my back, offering myself up. His hands, cold now, traced down my neck, over my shoulders, along my spine, settling on my buttocks. I waited for the rush, the brutal claim I'd known before, but he just stared, his silence a blade held to my throat.

The fire in me roared, unbearable. I twisted my head, voice shaking. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, please…"

Another slap, harder, splitting my lip, and blood bloomed on my tongue, dripping red into the white tub. "Did I let you speak, you fucking mutt?" he snapped. "Stand still."

I bit down, nodding, and widened my stance, legs trembling as I fought to obey. He grabbed the nozzle, water hissing to life, and turned it on me, warm streams cascading over my skin. His hands followed, scrubbing with a soapy sponge, rough against my flesh, claiming every inch.

"Have they touched you here?" he asked, fingers grazing my chest.

"Yes, Your Highness," I mumbled, voice low, unsteady.

"And here?" His hand dipped to my stomach.

"Yes, Your Highness."

He kept going, mapping me out, his touch clinical yet searing, a catalog of every place others had been. When his fingers slid between my legs, I choked on a gasp, my body bucking despite my will. Then he pressed the nozzle to my entrance, and warm water flooded in, filling me, stretching me. I shuddered, panting, my nails digging into the tub's edge, but his grip held me fast.

"Don't move, you piece of junk," he said, voice ice. "I'm going to wash you clean from the inside out."

I clenched my teeth, the sensation overwhelming - violation and relief tangled together. The water surged through me, purging me, and I couldn't hide the tremors, the way my hips twitched. He watched, unblinking, as I fought to stay still, fought to please him.

At last, he shut off the flow, tossing the nozzle aside, and rose to his full height, a tower of menace above me. I looked up, blood and water streaking my face, my body raw and quaking.

"Now," he said, each word a promise, "you're clean. But your punishment is just beginning."

I nodded, swallowing the copper tang in my mouth, ready for whatever he'd give. His attention, his touch - it was all I had, all I was worth, and I'd take it, every brutal piece.