He’s never mentioned it again, though, and I worry he’s changed his mind.
“Do you have a walking robe?” Varrik asks, putting his datapad down and gazing at me thoughtfully as I finish the last of my noodles.
“I can walk in all my robes,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know, I’m just busting your balls.” I’ve learned that he likes my bold tongue, so I try to throw in human slang whenever possible. “A walking robe…that’s the one with the long train, right?” When he nods, I get up from the table. “Yeah, I have one. Boots, too.” After three weeks of being at Lady Ahiri’s house party, the tailors have been here every day and I have outfits and outfits and outfits. It’s a little intimidating, especially considering Varrik seems to wear the same thing over and over again, but I’m told that just like in human culture, females wear far more ornate clothing than males do.
“There is a garden party we must attend this morning,” Varrik says, getting to his feet. “Do you need help dressing?”
I bite back a groan. The parties were fascinating at first, but over time, I’ve started to hate them. Every time we go, I feel like a freak. All of the other nobles stare at me like I’m a dog wearing a clown costume. It doesn’t matter that my clothes are elegant, subdued dresses emblazoned with nothing but the va’Rin house symbol. It doesn’t matter that I’m in head to toe deep blue, the va’Rin colors. All that matters is that a weird-ass human is at Lord va’Rin’s side. They all look at me like I’m a horror they have to endure, and I know it’s affecting Varrik’s standing with them. I see people whispering when he leaves, or having secret tête-a-têtes that quiet down when he walks past, and it makes me feel terrible.
Having a human friend shouldn’t make him a social pariah, but I know it does. I’ve tried talking to him about it, but he won’t listen to me. He just gets that icy look on his face and shuts the conversation down.
Even so, I’m not dumb. I do as little as I can to shame him. I keep my head down, don’t talk to anyone but him, and I never, never use his name in front of the others. I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.
“Get dressed,” Varrik tells me, getting to his feet. “Where is my manservant? I need a fresh robe.”
“I can help you with that,” I say, as if I help him get dressed all the time.
He looks over at me in surprise, then shrugs and touches the fastening at his neck, and the robe drops to the ground.
And he’s fucking naked in front of me. Jesus Christ, I’m so not prepared for the sight before my eyes. I thought maybe he’d have alien undies or something on under there, but he’s completely bare…and far more muscular than I thought. Every inch of him is dark blue and utterly glorious, and I stare at the rippling chest down to the cock that lies against one hard thigh. Oh mercy, there are a few differences there, but I can’t get past the sheer size of him.
Or, okay, the clit-teasing thing on top.
Or the ridges on his cock.
Okay basically I can’t get past any of it and I’m staring. Hard.
“Do you know where my robes are at, Milly?”
“Uhhh.” My mind is blank. I can’t stop staring. “Robes. Yep.” I force myself to turn, robotically, and head toward the massive closet full of extremely similar-looking robes. I tug one down and bring it out to him, noticing that he’s got his hands on his hips as he stares out at the gardens, as if being buck-ass naked around me is totally and completely normal.
Mutely, I hold the robe out to him and notice that he’s got a nice, tight bubble of a butt underneath the tail that swings lazily back and forth. I never thought I’d be creeping on a guy’s tail, but I have to admit, his looks pretty fine.
He glances over at the robe, then at me. “That’s not a walking robe.”
“There’s a difference? They all look the same!”
Varrik’s mouth twitches again. “Let me show you.” He moves toward the closet and starts to point out the different kinds of robes, even though they all look the same to me. Morning robes. Evening robes. Robes for meetings with nobility ranked higher than him. Robes for meetings with nobility ranked lower than him. Robes for meeting non-nobles. Robes for meeting for business. It’s something to do with the sigils around the hems and the different collars and sleeves, but I’ll be damned if I can concentrate on any of it. He’s standing right next to me, naked, and I keep peeking over to see if his dick is this long and thick while soft or if he’s hard.