I guide her down the hallway anyway. The apartment remains quiet around us. The men stationed outside already confirmed the perimeter twice before we came in, and I checked the security feed myself before unlocking the door. Nothing moves within twenty feet of this building without my knowing about it.
Rowan walks slowly beside me, her steps careful but sure. When we reach the bathroom, she pauses in the doorway and glances around. The room is bright and clean, the marble absorbing the overhead light. Thick towels hang neatly beside the sink, and the deep tub along the far wall waits empty and cold.
Rowan turns toward me. “Kiren,” she begins, lifting one hand slightly, “I can take a shower?—”
“No.” The word leaves my mouth before she finishes the sentence.
She blinks once.
“You’re not showering,” I continue, stepping past her and reaching for the faucet. “You’re sitting.”
Water begins filling the tub in a low rush that echoes softly off the marble. Behind me, Rowan exhales slowly through her nose.
“You do realize I’m not a wounded soldier,” she remarks.
I test the water temperature with my fingers, letting it run over my skin briefly before adjusting it. “You were dragged across a warehouse floor,” I say, my back teeth clenching.
“That’s not exactly the same thing.”
My head turns just enough to look back at her. “Sit.”
Rowan continues to watch me. Then she shakes her head faintly, a tired sort of amusement slipping into her expression. “You’re impossible.”
“Probably.”
She moves toward the tub and lowers herself carefully onto the edge. I open the cabinet beside the sink, take out a clean towel, and set it within reach.
The tub continues filling. Steam begins to curl faintly above the rising water. Rowan glances down at the bruises along her arms, touching one lightly before looking back at me.
“You know the doctor already checked everything,” she points out.
“I know.”
“And they confirmed I’m fine,” she adds, lifting one shoulder in a tired shrug.
“They did.”
“So, this is unnecessary.”
I shut off the faucet and turn toward her again. “It’s not.”
She adjusts on the edge of the tub as the water finishes filling.
I reach for the small glass jar on the shelf beside the tub, unscrew the lid, and pour a measured handful of bath salts into the water. The crystals dissolve slowly, releasing a faint scent of eucalyptus and lavender that rises with the steam.
Rowan watches me quietly.
I step closer and reach for the belt of the coat she’s still wearing. My fingers work the knot loose before sliding it from her shoulders. The coat falls away easily, leaving her standing there while I carefully remove the rest of the clothing from her arms.
Her breathing slows as the rising steam begins to fill the room with warmth. When the last piece of clothing drops to the floor, I take her hand and help her step over the edge of the tub.
The water ripples softly as she lowers herself into it. A quiet breath escapes her as the heat reaches her skin.
“Okay,” she murmurs.
I straighten as she sinks deeper into the water, the steam curling around her shoulders while the scent of the bath salts fills the room. Her eyes close, and the tension in her shoulders finally begins to loosen as the warmth sinks into her muscles.
I kneel beside the tub and dip a washcloth into the water. Rowan opens her eyes and watches me carefully.
