I suck in a sharp breath, not from pain, but from howdelicately he’s touching me. Like I might splinter under his palm. His fingers trace each bruise, every mark now visible beneath the rising water. He pauses when his thumb ghosts over the darkest one, the jagged edge of a wound barely held together by his past efforts.
His jaw tightens.
“Did he leave those bruises on you?” His voice is tight.
I shake my head, but I don’t offer more. Icouldtell him. About my father. About the way Ares lets things happen. About how it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve learned to survive worse.
“It doesn’t matter, Seb-” I start, the words brittle, hollow.
But before I can finish, I reach for him. I curl my fingers around the back of his neck and pull him closer until our foreheads nearly touch, until his breath is mine, and our mouths hover just shy of a kiss. My other hand finds the curve of his jaw, and he doesn’t pull away.
He lets me hold him there.
The silence between us grows heavy with everything we’re not saying. My bruised body, his clenched fists, the hot water we sit in like a shared confession. The way he looks at me now, like it’s killing him to see me like this, and killing him more that he wants me anyway.
I tilt my face up just slightly, our lips barely apart now, and I can feel him fighting the pull. His breath hitches. His hand presses lightly to my thigh beneath the water, and it’s not sexual, it’s grounding. But it burns all the same.
If I moved an inch, we’d be kissing.
If I asked, he’d fall apart with me right here.
But I don’t ask.
And neither does he.
Not yet
“I just… I’m happy you’re safe,” I murmur, the words barely leaving my lips before I press them into his.
Sebastian meets the kiss with a low sound in his throat, one hand sliding up to the back of my head, fingers curling into my hair, firm but gentle. His mouth moves against mine with more hunger than he usually allows himself, like he’s been waiting for this,for me, to finally let him in. And for a moment, I do. I let myself fall into the warmth of it. His touch. His breath. His mouth coaxing mine open.
“We’re safe now,” he says against my lips, voice thick and urgent. “You’re safe when you’re with me.”
The words ripple through me, his conviction pressing deeper than it should. And I want to believe it. I want to pretend that being here, with him, in this quiet room where the world feels distant and my pain can be blurred by his hands, is enough.
But the flicker of guilt is already there, quiet and coiling low in my gut.
Not all of us are safe right now.
Still, I kiss him harder, like I can quiet it. Like I can make my body forget what my heart won’t. His hand slides lower, fingertips skimming along the skin of my stomach, drawing warmth to the surface in his wake. I suck in a soft breath as he finds his way higher, palms cupping my breasts with delicate reverence. His mouth leaves mine to trace down the curve of my neck, the press of his lips maddeningly slow, grazing just enough to make me shiver.
It should feel good. It does feel good.
But the deeper into it we fall, the more the noise in my head rises.
Because somewhere else, Ares's cold fearful stare exists.
The more Sebastian touches me, the more I feel myself split open, not in desire, but in confusion. My chest rises too fast. I can’t seem to catch my breath. My limbs tremble with tension, no longer from pleasure, but from pressure.
And Sebastian feels it.
He lifts his head, concern sharpening in his features. His eyes meet mine, soft and searching, and I can see his confusion already forming, curling behind the tender shape of his mouth.
“Harper?” he says gently. His hand still rests against my waist, his thumb stroking the skin there as though trying to calm something he doesn’t understand yet.
I’m breathing too fast. Too shallow. My nails dig into his shoulders like I’m trying to hold onto something solid, but I’m not even sure what I’m asking him to stay for.
“I can’t,” I choke out. “I can’t do this right now, Seb. I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have pushed you into it.”
