" His mouth was dry with an unpleasant taste in it that made him ill." His mouth was dry with an unpleasant taste in it that made him ill. He plodded across the room toward the one open door that he assumed led to the bathing area. He was right. "Oh, my, he's shy in front of his wife!" she exclaimed, her tone pronouncing the fact that he had left on the underwear he had worn under the suit to be cute and/or quaint. Her own attire left little to the imagination, being made up mostly of translucent slips of silk strung together over the important portions of her anatomy. He blushed fiercely as he bent over the sink to drink from the faucet. The water was cold, probably piped from a nearby glacier, or chilled by spells cast by Facade's hideous, demonic other husband. He laved his face and neck while he was there, letting the chill wake him out of the dream-haze he was in. He needed all his wits about him while dealing with Facade. One wrong word, the wrong tone to his voice, and she might kill him where he stood. He had married her to keep her from killing his sister, and he prayed to whatever gods watched over young women who also happened to be demon sorceresses that Facade had not forgotten their deal and slain Satin already. |