"Hmmm… just the perfect temperature," he murmured, his voice a low purr. "Well… humans tend to be quick learners when their lives are on the line."
Extending his slender arm, Yves glanced at Fabian, his gaze sharp and expectant. "Go on, wash me."
Fabian's hands shook slightly as he reached for the washcloth, his nervousness palpable.
He wasn't supposed to be doing this—this was a task for the more experienced servants, those who were trained to handle the whims of someone as unpredictable and dangerous as Yves.
But here he was, a new servant with only a few days of experience, now faced with the daunting task of serving the one person everyone whispered about with fear.
As Fabian gently began to wash Yves, his movements careful and precise, his mind raced with thoughts of the stories he'd heard—the tales of Yves' cruelty, his capricious nature, and his ability to twist others to his will.
