A few days. A few godsdamned days of retive peace, of stolen moments with Lily, of… recovery… and now this. Ashara had vanished. Not a dramatic disappearance, no note pinned to a dagger, no cryptic message scrawled in blood. Just… gone. And in her pce, a scrap of parchment, its single sentence mocking in its simplicity: Find me. Do not be seen.

  “Easy for you to say,” I muttered, shoving the note into my pocket and stepping out of the training compound into the frigid evening air. Ashara had beaten tracking skills into me – literally beaten them in, with that damned riding crop of hers – but this was different. This was Ashara. A master rogue, a fox-woman with senses sharper than any human, with an agility that defied logic, and a seemingly supernatural ability to disappear into thin air.

  It was snowing again, the fkes swirling around me, stinging my face, the wind a biting, relentless presence that seemed determined to freeze me to the bone. My balls had already retreated so far north, that I doubt they’d see day light any time soon. I pulled my cloak tighter, the wool offering scant protection against the cold. This is ridiculous. She could have vanished without a trace. She’s testing me. Again.

  I started where she’d st been seen – her private chambers. Nothing. No sign of a struggle, no forced entry, no… anything. Just the lingering scent of her perfume, that damned intoxicating musk that always seemed to make my head swim. Focus, Sam!

  Then, a glimmer of hope. A single, almost invisible scuff mark on the windowsill, a faint smudge of mud on the otherwise pristine stone. She’d gone out the window. Of course she had.

  I climbed out, the cold air a sp in the face, and scanned the ground below. The snow was already obscuring any obvious tracks, but… there. A faint impression, the edge of a boot print, pointing towards the city. She wanted me to follow. This wasn’t a disappearance; it was a hunt. A torturous, freezing, ball-shriveling hunt.

  I muttered curses under my breath, each exhale a cloud of white in the frigid air, and started to follow the trail. It wasn’t easy. Ashara was good, damn good. The boot print vanished almost immediately, swallowed by the snow and the bustling evening traffic of Ashbourne.

  But she’d left… clues. Tiny, almost imperceptible signs that only a trained eye – or someone who’d spent countless hours being drilled by Ashara – would notice. A broken twig on a low-hanging branch, a faint scratch on a cobblestone, a single, silver-bck hair clinging to a rough-hewn wooden post. Each clue was a breadcrumb, a taunt, a reminder of her skill and my… retive incompetence. I’d pick the lock of the Ravencrest, but how hard would it be to find my teacher? Turns out? Hard.

  “Damn you, Ashara,” I muttered, my fingers numb with cold, my breath misting in the air. “You could have at least made this… enjoyable.” Though, a part of me, the part that wasn’t currently freezing to death, had to admit there was a certain… thrill… to the chase.

  Her trail led me through the winding streets of Ashbourne, a mess of narrow alleys and bustling marketpces, now mostly deserted in the fading light and the worsening weather. I followed the clues, painstakingly piecing together her path, my mind racing, trying to anticipate her next move. Each step was a test, a challenge, a constant reminder of how much I still had to learn.

  My fingers, even in the gloves, were ice cold. The tip of my nose probably looked like a cherry.

  Then, the trail led me… here. To the Golden Lotus Bathhouse. A vish establishment, its entrance glowing with warm, inviting light, the sounds of ughter and spshing water spilling out into the cold night air. Steam billowed from the open doorway, carrying the scent of exotic herbs and… something else. Something… tempting.

  I hesitated. This was… unexpected. Why would Ashara come here? Was this part of the test? Or… a trap? But the cold had seeped into my bones, and the thought of warmth, of respite, was too alluring to resist.

  I stepped inside the Golden Lotus Bathhouse, the transition from the frigid street to the humid heat almost overwhelming. It was like stepping into another world. The air was thick with steam, swirling around me, immediately causing my chilled skin to prickle with a thousand tiny beads of moisture.

  And everyone… everyone was naked.

  Not “mostly naked.” Not “discreetly draped.” Naked. Gloriously, unabashedly naked. Men, women, a few… others… all shapes and sizes, all glistening with water and steam. The sounds of ughter, conversation, and the gentle pping of water filled my ears. And the scent… a heady mix of jasmine, sandalwood, and… unwashed bodies. It was… surprisingly not unpleasant.

  My carefully constructed composure, the “cool, detached rogue” persona I’d been trying to cultivate… evaporated instantly. I was eighteen, male, and surrounded by nakedness. My brain short-circuited.

  I moved deeper into the bathhouse, trying to appear like I belonged, like I wasn’t staring, like I saw this kind of thing every day. I failed miserably. My eyes darted around the room, taking in far more flesh than I’d ever seen in my life, searching for Ashara. Or, at least, pretending to search for Ashara. A part of me was just… overwhelmed.

  I stumbled into one of the smaller, private bathing rooms, hoping to find a clue, a sign, anything… and promptly found myself face-to-face with a very rge, very hairy, and very angry man, who was in the process of… well, let’s just say he wasn’t alone.

  “Get out!” he roared, his voice echoing through the small chamber. A slipper, surprisingly heavy, whizzed past my head.

  I retreated, stammering apologies, and nearly collided with a group of giggling women, who shrieked and spshed water at me.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” I muttered, my face burning, and backed away, only to bump into a… very enthusiastic couple who were clearly not interested in sharing their bathing experience.

  Another room, another startled cry, this time a woman’s, followed by a well-aimed sponge that smacked me squarely in the chest.

  “Gods damn it!” I muttered, dodging a bar of soap and retreating once more. This was… not going well. I was starting to feel like a pinball in a particurly chaotic, and naked, pinball machine.

  I was used to Ashara’s punishments, physical and mental, but this was turning into a nightmare!

  And then, I saw her. Lily.

  She was in one of the rger, less…occupied… pools, her white-blonde hair piled on top of her head, her skin glowing in the soft light. She was ughing, talking to another woman, her head thrown back, her neck exposed… Gods, she was beautiful. And, thankfully, not currently engaged in any…activities that would require me to flee in terror.

  “Sam?” she said, her voice a mix of surprise and delight. “What are you doing here? You look like you’re about to freeze to death!” Which, considering the circumstances, was probably a fair assessment.

  Before I could answer, or formute a coherent expnation for my presence in a naked bathhouse, she gestured to the pool. “Come in! The water’s perfect.”

  “I, uh…” I stammered, my gaze darting between Lily’s smiling face and the…very inviting water. And, okay, maybe my gaze lingered a little longer on Lily’s…everything. She was naked. And gorgeous. And… “Don’t mind if I do,” I finally managed to say, my voice a little higher-pitched than usual. My cheeks were definitely burning, and it wasn’t from the steam.

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I stripped off my cloak, my boots, my outer yers, and every other godsdamned piece of clothing I was wearing, and I tried very hard not to make eye contact with anyone, especially Lily, as I did so. Easier said than done in a naked bathhouse and slipped into the water. It was blissfully warm, enveloping me like a comforting embrace, and instantly soothing my bruised ego (and my rapidly-warming extremities). I sighed, rexing into the heat, feeling the tension drain from my muscles.“This is… amazing,” I admitted, finally meeting Lily’s gaze, and offering her a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

  Lily introduced me to her friend, a buxom redhead named Era, who, I couldn’t help but notice, was also stunningly beautiful. Gods, Ashbourne is full of beautiful women. And I’m… naked. With two of them. and we talked, ughed, the conversation light and easy. I tried to focus, to keep my mind on Ashara, on the mission, but it was… difficult.

  The warmth, the company, Lily’s presence, the way the water glistened on her skin, the way her smile could light up a room… and, yes, the sheer, overwhelming nakedness of it all…it was a potent combination. “So,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away from my increasingly obvious…distraction, “this pce is… popur?”Smooth, Sam. Real smooth.

  We kissed, a brief, tentative touch of lips that sent a shiver down my spine, despite the heat of the water. “More,” I murmured, against her lips, before I could stop myself. Gods, I was hopeless.And then…

  Crack!

  The sound, sharp and unmistakable, echoed through the bathhouse. I winced, instinctively reaching for my…not there. Wrong pce. Wrong pain.

  I turned, water sluicing off my body, feeling utterly, ridiculously vulnerable, and very much naked , and there she was. Ashara. Standing behind me, her riding crop held loosely in her hand, a smirk pying on her lips. Her silver-bck hair fell around her shoulders in damp waves.

  She was wearing… well,nothing but a smirk; she was absolutely glorious, a smirk and her usual bck leather lingerie, which, in this context, amounted to slightly more coverage than a strategically pced fig leaf.

  “Looking for something, Samuel?” she asked, her voice dripping with amusement, but her eyes… her eyes were narrowed, a flicker of disappointment, of disapproval, that sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the water.

  I sputtered, my face burning, and not from the heat of the bathhouse, nor the water, nor the memory of my rapid escape, and I could only babble, “I, uh, well...” I was caught. Red-handed. Red-assed. And completely, utterly… screwed.

  Ashara stepped closer, her movements fluid and graceful, a predator stalking its prey. She reached out, not with the crop, but with her hand, and tapped my chest, right over my heart. My racing heart.

  “When you follow someone, Samuel,” she said, her voice soft, alluring, and dangerously insinuative, “you make sure you hide your tracks. They are your prey, but the way you’ve left footprints everywhere?” she let her gaze drift downwards, a slow, deliberate appraisal that made me acutely aware of my own… arousal. Which, despite the circumstances, was… significant.

  “Your ass is on the line.”

  Crack!

  Another sharp smack, this time directly on my ass, a stinging reminder of her displeasure, and of my… failure.

  She winked, a fsh of amusement and something else… something that looked almost like… pride?, and then, with a final, lingering gnce at my very red and very much exposed ass, she turned and walked away, her leather-cd form disappearing into the steam with the same effortless grace she’d used to disappear from the compound. Leaving me standing there, naked, humiliated, and… strangely exhirated.

  I stood there for a long moment, the water suddenly feeling much colder, the ughter and chatter of the bathhouse fading into a dull roar. I was… mortified. And… turned on. Gods, I was a mess.

  Slowly, I turned back to Lily and Era, who were both staring at me with a mixture of amusement and… was that pity?

  I sank down into the water, the heat a welcome embrace against my suddenly chilled skin, until only my head was above the surface, trying to regain some sembnce of composure. I turned my face into her neck, inhaling her scent, needing the comfort.

  Era, who had been watching the whole scene with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, leaned forward. “So,” she said, a teasing glint in her eyes, “was that your mistress, Sam? The infamous Shadow Fox?”

  “Poor baby rogue,” Lily said, her voice soft, but ced with amusement, and she reached out, she stroked my hair, her fingers gentle against my scalp. She knew. Of course, she knew. She’d seen the bruises, the marks Ashara had left on me during our… training sessions. More than once over the st weeks.

  “So,” I said, my voice a little shaky, trying for a light tone and failing miserably, “I’m a rogue now?” I looked at Lily, seeking confirmation.

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