Moments later, the therapist's hands disappeared from Kane's back.
"We'll move to facial treatment now."
Kane cracked one eye open, watching as she arranged glass bowls filled with green clay and cucumber slices on a lacquered tray.
Cool fingertips smoothed cleanser across his face, working in gentle circles.
Kane's nose twitched at the sharp botanical scent—lavender and something citrus.
The woman spread clay across his cheeks and forehead, avoiding his twitching ears.
Kane felt ridiculous.
Through the curtain, he caught a glimpse of Cyrus receiving the same treatment, looking impossibly dignified even covered in green paste.
Of course the dragon made clay masks look elegant.
"Rest while the mask sets," the therapist murmured, placing cucumber slices over Kane's eyes.
Darkness descended, heightening every other sensation.
The stones on his lower back radiated soothing heat, contrasting with the cooling clay tightening across his skin.
