His shadows veiled around her gently, shielding her view and silencing all screams. She shook against him, shutting her eyes tight. His anger softened, and he brushed the tear rolling down her cheek.
Please, no more.
Every single one of their souls will be dragged to through the Seven Hells,Rune murmured, lifting her face.For daring to touch what is mine.
But they did touch her.
Her chest heaved as she lost air, her vision spinning.Shadows curled around her protectively and the atrocity of that room vanished.
In the next breath, she was no longer in Argyle.
Alora landed on the soft bedding, the air carrying the scent of her garden and shadow smoke. They’d returned to the cottage in the woods instead of the mountain.
She looked up to find Rune beside her. His wings and horns had vanished beneath glamor again, as if to take away all that would frighten her.
“Forgive me. I should have brought you here first.”He sat beside her, gently pulling her into an embrace. “You are safe now. Nothing will ever harm you again.”
Her chest heaved with sobs, shaking her as she simply crumbled. Rune drew into his arms wrapped and laid them back on the bed, holding her against his chest. His warmth seeped into her bones, taking away every hurt, healing every wound. His lips drifted over her cheek and lashes, catching every tear.
Rune didn’t speak as her cries quieted into trembling breaths. He simply held her tightly, as if anchoring her to something softer than everything she’d endured. But she was covered in dirt, blood, and the stench of Eldrik’s scent.
Then, slowly, the shadows shifted as Rune rose and went to the folding screen. There was a flash of red magic, then she heard water sloshing. Wordlessly, he returned and carried her to the bath. He helped her undress then sink into the steaming water. Alora barely registered the sensation of warmth creeping beneath her skin. Water lapped against her, scented with crushed roses and lavender. Candlelight danced across the walls, golden and soft, casting long shadows that moved like whispers.
Rune sat on a bench beside the bathtub and gently scrubbed her back with cloth.
A cloth touched her shoulder, warm and wet. She flinched instinctively.
Rune paused. “I’ve got you, love.”
She closed her eyes.
The tenderness in his touch, the care and love behind it was too much. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as her body shook. She wrapped her arms around herself. Even in the hot bath, her body felt cold.
Sensing that, Rune stood as his clothing dissolved away. Darkness coiled around his hips, veiling him from view. Whether for his decency, or for her comfort, his one intention was to tend her.
Alora shifted aside to make room as he slipped into the bath with her. He sat behind her in the water, silent and still, his legs bracketing hers beneath the surface. His chest was a warm wall of quiet heat at her back, and she felt every breath he took as if it belonged to her.
She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her throat was tight, her body sore. She was aware of every ache, every wound, every phantom pain. But the water was warm.
And Rune’s presence… it was soothing.
He picked up the cloth again and washed her with gentle, deliberate patience, cleansing the dried blood from her skin, the grime from her arms. His magic gently moved through her, easing her ache, erasing the bruises from her ribs. His fingers followed the path of the cloth, gentle and careful, never lingering too long.
Alora tried not to flinch at every touch of skin he tended.
She focused on the sound of water lapping softly around them. The way it cradled her body. The ghost of steam against her cheeks. Rune’s fingers trembled slightly as a flicker of red magic soothed a cut on her knuckles.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered at last, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to take care of me.”
“Yes, I do,” he said.
And there was no darkness in it.
Only gentle affection.
By the time he reached her back, she had nearly melted into him. The cloth moved in slow, circular strokes, paired with the warm slide of his palm.
No one had ever touched her like this. Not possessively. Not out of duty. Buttenderly. Like she was a doll made of glass that he feared may break.
