I smile again, small and a little unsure, clutching the clothes he offered me against my chest. I reach up and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, a nervous habit I can’t quite shake.
Thane watches me. Not with the hunger I saw in his eyes at the lagoon, but something quieter. Softer. Almost . . . awe. The bond between us hums again, a pulse of warmth and reassurance that wraps around my ribs like a second heartbeat.
Before I can move, Thane reaches out. His hand brushes lightly against my cheek as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my other ear. The touch is feather-light, careful.
I still beneath his touch.
He draws in a breath, and when he speaks, his voice is low, rough at the edges.
“Could I—” He swallows. “Could I take a bath with you?”
The question hangs between us, so open and bare it almost brings me to my knees. He shifts slightly, like he’s bracing for me to pull away.
“Nothing has to happen,” he says quickly. “I don’t even think Ican,after everything tonight.” Another breath. “I just want tobe near you.”
The bond thrums between us—aching. Full of everything he can’t say aloud.
I don’t hesitate. I step closer and reach for his hand.
His fingers close around mine instantly, like a breath he’s been holding finally releases.
I lift my eyes to his and give a small nod.Yes.
Yes to his closeness.
Yes to his need.
Yes to this fragile, precious thing we’re building in the wreckage. Andbecauseof it.
He drops his forehead against mine, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales. As if he’s breathing me in. As if the scent of me, my presence, is the only thing anchoring him to this moment.
I close my eyes too, resting my forehead against his. For a few heartbeats, we just breathe.
Then—almost in silent agreement—we both turn our backs to one another and begin to undress.
It’s the oddest thing.
This man—the one who has made me moan with nothing more than his lips on my breasts—the one who knows the shape of my body with the same certainty he has when wielding a sword. And me—the woman who once seduced him when he was half-asleep, teasing and brazen—my mouth on his shaft.
Suddenly, we are shy. Like young lovers discovering each other for the first time. It almost makes me laugh—this strange, careful dance we’re doing.
Without speaking, we both turn and slip into the water. The heat wraps around me instantly, easing the tightness in my muscles, coaxing a quiet sigh from my lips.
Thane leans forward and shuts off the faucet. The rush of water cuts out in an instant—and with it, a sharp, sudden silence falls over the room. It presses around us—thick, heavy,expectant.
The bond hums between us—quiet, steady. Unbreakably real.
The tub takes up most of the bathing chamber—big enough for two, but just barely.
My legs stretch out beneath the surface, the side of my foot brushing against his upper thigh.
Facing me in the tub, Thane has to bend his legs slightly to fit, his knees peeking just above the surface. The water beads and slides down his skin in slow, glistening trails.
We sit there. Breathing. Listening to the soft lapping of the water against the sides of the tub. Letting the warmth of the bath seep into our bones. Letting silence say what words can’t.
Then, without thinking, I reach out under the water and rest my hand gently on his shin. The bond thrums in response—soft, steady, wrapping around us like a second skin.
And Thane doesn’t pull away. He just closes his eyes and exhales slowly, as if the weight of the day is finally beginning to ease from his body.
