Something in him cracked wider than before. Not from pain, but from the unbearable relief of believing her. He kissed her slow, shaking, nothing left of the wildness but the raw edges of devotion.
They lay tangled, wet and marked, her hair plastered to his chest, her gown twisted between them. He let out a low, shaky laugh.
“We’re a mess.”
“You’ll have bruises,” she said, touching his skin. “I left marks.”
“Strategic marks. My uniform will hide them.”
Her fingers traced his tattoo, gentle where moments ago they’d been fierce.
“Let’s go back to the bath,” she whispered. “Together.”
She kissed his brow.
“Let me care for what I’ve claimed.”
He lifted his head, searching her face.
“You want to bathe me, love?”
He almost laughed, the sound hoarse, stunned.
“I want to love you,” she said, her hand finding the bite she’d left on his shoulder.
His chest rose and fell, something sacred anchoring him to her gaze.
This time, he didn't look away.
Rising slowly, she reached for her gown, letting it slide down her arms and pool at her waist, then hips, then floor. With quiet grace, she crossed the room. Without a word, he followed.
At the edge of the marble tub, she knelt and turned the brass valves. Pipes groaned, water rushing in—a soft roar as steam unfurled like breath on a winter’s morning.
Viktor lit a taper with a touch of his fingers, then another. Golden light flickered across her damp skin as she pinned her hair, steam curling upward, sweet with moonblossom.
He lingered close, still half dressed, his leathers clinging to his hips. He watched her test the water with her wrist, her fingers stirring ripples. She closed her eyes, listening to the rise and spill.
Then she looked back.
Let me love you.
She’d said it before. But tonight, she wanted all of him.
He met her gaze.
And slowly, he obeyed the one thing she’d once begged of him.
He set down his armor.
First his hair—unbound, falling loose.
Then his leathers.
Then everything else.
The room hushed but for the water and the rise of steam.
He stood bare before her, every inch revealed in firelight and heat. Her eyes lingered over his chest, the healed burns, the ink beneath his heart.
