Tam’lah left me, promising she would give Sark directions to the Central Glade, and I was finally able to answer the call of Nature.
I felt much relieved afterwards, but I couldn’t help noticing, when I pulled up my dress, that my skinned knees were worse than I had thought. They were quite bloody and I had ruined my gown—there were holes in it where I had fallen.
The palms of my hands were also quite raw and smarted most dreadfully. I judged that I would have to wash all these wounds thoroughly and then go and see if the Fenushians had any form of antibiotic cream. I certainly didn’t want to get an infection in this wild place.
As I was examining my injuries, Sark knocked and asked if he could enter.
“Come in,” I told him. I was in the act of pulling down my skirts when he entered, but I wasn’t quick enough. He caught sight of my wounded knees and a frown crossed his face.
“Wait—is that where you fell? Let me see!” he demanded.
Sinking to his knees, he knelt before me and gestured for me to lift my skirts. I obeyed, meekly enough, though I confess my heart was pounding. With him in this position, I couldn’t help remembering the forbidden things I had heard him saying earlier. Couldn’t help remembering how he’d said that he wanted to taste me.
But at the moment, he seemed entirely focused on my hurt knees.
“Hmm—this is worse than I thought,” he rumbled. “We need to get these healed up.”
“I was just thinking I might wash them and see if the Fenushians had any kind of ointment,” I offered.
“Good idea. What’s the situation with the water here?” he asked, frowning at the rock face on the shower wall, where the water was running in a steady stream.
“Oh, I’ll show you,” I told him. I showed him the rocky protuberance and how you twisted it to get the shelf to come out and form a waterfall.
“Hmm, interesting.” He nodded in approval. “Seems like the Fenushians don’t have a lot, but they make the most of what they do have,” he added. “They’re technology is subtle but definitely more sophisticated than it looks.”
“I was thinking the same thing about our bracelets,” I said, nodding at the thick leather band strapped around my wrist. The swirling designs still glowed blue and green and purple, though less brightly than when Tam’lah had first put it on me.
“Yes, the bracelets.” Sark frowned at his. “I didn’t want to wear one but they refused to let me come in here with you otherwise.”
“Why not?” I asked. “It’s just to let the other Fenushians know we’re visitors, right?”
“Why put so much effort and technology into a device that only states the obvious?” Sark asked. “We’re clearly not like them—anyone who looks at us will know we’re visitors.” He shook his arm. “What else do these damn things do?”
“You think they do something else?” I asked, feeling worried.
“Probably tracking our data or something like that. Tam’lah did say this used to be a research facility,” he pointed out. “Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Let’s get you cleaned up—take off your dress.”
“Oh…should I?” I asked uncertainly.
Sark frowned.
“I’ve seen you naked several times now, my lady. Are you feeling shy?”
“No, I suppose not.” He had a point—I just wasn’t used to disrobing around men other than Baslik. Well, at least until recently, I reminded myself.
I removed the ruined gown, wondering what I was going to wear to the Fenushian feast that night, and then I was standing there in nothing but my underclothes.
“Should I take these off as well?” I asked him, nodding down at my white lace brasserie and panties. The lace was quite thin—you could see the pink of my nipples and pussy lips right through it.
Sark shook his head, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“No, I don’t think you’d better, my lady,” he growled. “You’re too damn tempting as it is.”
I could feel a pleased blush flushing into my cheeks. When Baslik looks at me with lust, it makes my skin crawl. But when Sark looks at me that way, it gives me the fluttering sensation in my stomach and when I get that feeling, I want him to do more than look—I want him to touch me.
Also, after years of being told by just about everyone—and especially all of the men in the Royal Family—that I’m too plump to be pleasing, it’s very nice to be looked at with such admiration and desire.
“Come on—let’s get you clean,” Sark said to me. He had removed his leather vest as well, doubtless to keep it from getting wet, and I couldn’t help admiring the broad expanse of his muscular chest. His hands looked so big and capable, yet I knew they could be gentle, too. I desperately wanted to feel them caressing me again.