Chapter 85: Two Kings, One Tub

Inside the steam-filled bath area, the only sound was the click-clack of claws on stone and the heavy, panting breath of a tiger who had just realized the red dot was gone.

Kael stopped chasing the phantom bug. He stood in the center of the room, naked and magnificent, and slowly turned his head toward Ren.

“Bug… gone,” Kael rumbled. “Mate… here.”

He took a step toward her.

“Now, Kael,” Ren said, holding up a hand. “We are here to bathe. See the nice water? It’s warm. Go get in.”

Kael looked at the steaming pool of water carved into the rock. He sneered.

“No,” he stated flatly. “Wet. Bad.”

“You are a tiger!” Ren argued, edging sideways along the wall. “Tigers love water! I saw it on a documentary! Don’t give me this domestic house cat attitude!”

Kael lunged.

It wasn’t an attack; it was a tackle. Ren yelped as three hundred pounds of muscle slammed into her, pinning her against the smooth black wall. Her feet dangled a few inches off the ground.

“Clean,” Kael growled, burying his nose in her neck again. “Lick.”

“No lick!” Ren shrieked, trying to push his face away. “Kael! Personal space! You smell like a swamp creature’s armpit!”

Kael didn’t care. He was horny and he had his mate pinned. His hips ground against her, heavy and insistent, and Ren felt a flush of heat rise to her face.

“Mine,” Kael purred, his tongue rasping against her collarbone.

Suddenly, the heavy obsidian door slid open with a grinding sound.

Syris stood in the doorway.

He took one look at the scene and his face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated disgust.

“Ugh,” Syris sneered

Ren’s eyes went wide. ’Salvation.’

“Syris!” she screamed. “Help me! He’s not cooperating! I need backup!”

Kael’s head snapped toward the intruder. His red eyes flashed. He let go of Ren and dropped to a crouch, a low, menacing growl ripping from his throat.

“SNAKE,” Kael roared. “DIE.”

He launched himself at Syris.

“Nope!” Ren yelled.

She grabbed Kael by his tail.

It was a stupid move. But the sudden yank on his sensitive appendage made Kael yelp and stumble mid-leap. He crashed onto the wet stone floor, limbs flailing.

Ren didn’t hesitate. She jumped on his back.

“Syris! Grab his legs!” she ordered, wrestling the thrashing tiger. “I can’t get him into the water!”

Syris looked at the naked, thrashing, filthy tiger.

“I refuse,” Syris stated haughtily, taking a step back.

“Syris!” Ren gritted out, her arms wrapped around Kael’s thick neck in a chokehold as the tiger tried to buck her off like a rodeo bull. “He is sleeping in your Nest! Do you want your bed to smell like rotting swamp muck and old blood forever?”

Syris froze.

“My furs,” Syris whispered, horrified.

“Yes! Your precious furs!” Ren yelled. “If we don’t wash him, I’m letting him roll all over your sleeping pelts! Now grab his ankles!”

“Fine!” Syris snarled.

He swept into the room. He grabbed Kael’s ankles with a look of extreme distaste.

“HISS!” Kael spat, trying to claw Syris’ face with his free hand.

“Push him!” Ren yelled. “On three! One, two, three!”

With a synchronized heave, they shoved the Tiger King.

SPLASH.

Kael hit the water. He went under, thrashing like a shark on a line, sending a tidal wave of hot water over the edge that soaked Ren and Syris instantly.

Kael surfaced, sputtering, his hair plastered to his face. He looked furious.

“WET!” Kael roared, trying to climb out.

“Oh no you don’t,” Syris hissed. He grabbed a long-handled scrubbing brush made of stiff boar bristles and jabbed Kael in the chest, pushing him back down. “Stay down.”

Ren grabbed a wooden jar of river sand she had found by the wall. “Syris, keep him pinned. I’m going in.”

Ren waded into the pool. The water came up to her waist. Kael was snarling at Syris, distracted enough for Ren to approach.

She scooped up a handful of the coarse sand.

“Sorry, kitty,” Ren whispered. “This is going to be an exfoliation from hell.”

She slammed the sand onto Kael’s chest and started to scrub.

Kael flinched. “HURT!”

“It’s hygiene!” Ren yelled over his noise, scrubbing vigorously at the dried blood and dirt. “Syris, hold his arm!”

Syris grimaced but grabbed Kael’s bicep, wrestling the tiger’s arm straight so Ren could scrub the armpit.

“Look at this,” Syris sneered, looking down at Kael’s floating, naked form. “He is barbaric. Even his… anatomy is aggressive. Why is it so… vein-y?”

Ding!

[System Analysis: The Sword Comparison] [Syris: Sleek, Dual-Wielding, Ribbed for Her Pleasure.] [Kael: Thick, Designed for… Impact.] [Winner: Ren’s Pelvis (Rest in Peace).]

“Syris, stop staring at his junk and hold him still!” Ren shouted, scrubbing Kael’s neck. The sand was turning the water gray as layers of filth came off.

Kael, realizing that the scrubbing actually felt kind of like a rough tongue grooming him, stopped thrashing. His eyes fluttered shut. He leaned into Ren’s hand.

“Mmm,” Kael rumbled. “Harder. Behind ears.”

Ren paused. Syris paused.

“I hate him,” Syris announced flatly.

“Just scrub the back,” Ren sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead. “We need to get the bitter smell off his skin.”

For the next twenty minutes, the bath was a chaotic scene of domestic madness. Ren was barking orders like a drill sergeant. Syris was complaining about getting wet while holding Kael in a headlock. Kael was oscillating between trying to bite Syris and purring loudly whenever Ren scrubbed his ears.

Finally, Kael was clean. His tan skin shone under the water, the stripes vibrant again. The red in his eyes had dimmed slightly, though the feral glaze remained.

Ren slumped against the pool edge, exhausted. She looked at her two husbands.

One was a soaked, grumpy snake with wet hair clinging to his face. The other was a naked, feral tiger blowing bubbles in the water.

“Okay,” Ren breathed, looking at the gray, murky bathwater. “He’s clean. Now… how do we get him out?”

Kael stood up. Water cascaded off his massive frame. He looked at Ren. He looked at Syris.

He shook.

Violently.

A spray of dirty bathwater hit Syris directly in the face.

Syris stood perfectly still, water dripping from his nose. His eye twitched.

“I am going to kill him,” Syris whispered. “Ren, look away. I am going to murder the cat.”

“No murder!” Ren intervened, grabbing a large fur pelt from a rack and throwing it over Kael’s head. “Kitchen! Now! I am making soup. If you two fight, you get nothing!”

She climbed out of the pool, dripping wet, and marched toward the door.

“Come on!” she yelled back. “And put something on him, Syris! I can’t cook with that thing staring at me!”

Syris looked at the wet tiger, then at the pile of animal skin loincloths in the corner.

“Why do I have to do it?,” Syris muttered. “I’m a king…”

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