Chapter 167 Held

Chapter 167 Held
(Umbros)
The water has begun to cool, and Lyra is already half asleep against me. Her body is loose now in a way it wasn’t before. There’s no tension left in the way she holds herself. No fight. No edge. Just warmth and weight and trust as she leans fully into my chest, her fingers still loosely tangled with mine beneath the surface. I press one last kiss to her temple. “Come on, starlight”, I murmur. “Let’s get you out of here.” She hums in response, barely lifting her head, and I move slowly. One arm stays firm around her as I shift us upright, careful not to jostle her more than necessary. Water slides from her skin as I stand, the surface breaking in quiet ripples around us. She presses closer instinctively, her face turning into my shoulder, and I steady her without thinking, one hand braced at her back. “I’ve got you,” I say quietly. “I know,” she murmurs. I step out of the bath first, then guide her with me.
The air outside the water is cooler, but I don’t give it time to settle against her skin. I take a towel and wrap it around her, pulling her into it. She leans into me, letting me dry her gently. I move with quiet intention, working the water from her arms, her shoulders, her back. She shifts slightly when I kneel, steadying her as I dry her legs, one hand braced at her hip to keep her balanced. Her eyes are half-lidded, her breathing slow, her body following wherever I guide it. When I’m done, I lift another towel and wrap it around her hair, squeezing gently to take the worst of the water from it before letting it fall loose down her back again. “Stay with me,” I murmur, brushing my thumb across her cheek. She smiles and nods faintly.
I guide her back into the room with one hand at her waist, the other holding hers. The floor is warm beneath our feet, the air soft, the bed already turned down in the low silver light. She barely makes it to the edge before sitting, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion she’s been holding off all day. I move quickly to the closet and find a soft, loose shirt. I slide it gently over her head, guiding her arms through without making her do the work herself. Then I find a pair of those fluffy shorts we both like on her. I work them slowly over her hips. She watches me through half-closed eyes. I crouch in front of her again, brushing a damp strand of hair back from her face. “Up,” I say quietly. She shuffles further up the bed without argument. She sinks into the mattress with a small breath, her body immediately curling into the warmth. I reach for the remote on the bedside table and press it into her hand. “Pick something,” I tell her. “Anything. Doesn’t matter.” Her fingers curl around it loosely. “Something mindless,” I add, the faintest hint of a smile touching my mouth. “Maybe that one about fish.” She gives me the smallest ghost of a smile in return. “Bossy,” she murmurs.
I watch her as she clicks through options, the soft glow of the screen lighting her face. Then I turn and walk down to the kitchen, where it is quiet. It always is at this hour. The Celestial Plane doesn’t sleep the way mortals do, but there are still moments where everything softens and slows. I move through the kitchen, putting a glass of water on the tray, some fruit and those odd cheeses she likes. I arrange it all carefully, though I know she won’t care what it looks like. Her stomach will want food. She’s exactly where I left her when I return to the room. The screen casts a soft glow across the bed, and the beginning of some movie she’s half paying attention to plays quietly. She’s already curled onto her side, the remote still loosely in her hand, her eyes drifting closed between blinks. I set the tray down within reach. “Eat a little for me, love”, I say, softly. She opens her eyes just enough to look at me. “Don’t wanna move.”
“I know.” I smile and sit on the edge of the bed. I pick up a piece of fruit and hold it out to her. She gives me a sleepy, soft look before she leans forward just enough to take it from my fingers. I feel her piece by piece as the movie plays, and when she shakes her head at another piece, I set the rest aside. Then I reach for the glass, helping her sit before guiding it to her lips. She drinks without argument. “Good girl,” I whisper. She settles back again immediately after, pulling the blankets higher, her body sinking deeper into the bed. I take the remote and turn the volume down slightly before I move around to the other side and slide in beside her.
The second I’m there, she turns into me, her head finding my chest, one arm sliding across my waist and pulling herself closer. I bring my hand to her hair and run my fingers through it in slow, steady strokes. The last of the tension leaves her in pieces beneath my fingers. Her breathing evens out, and the movie continues in the background. I press a final kiss to the top of her head. “I love you too, starlight,” I murmur. She doesn’t answer; she’s already surrendered herself to sleep. I stay there with her, one arm wrapped around her body, the other resting in her hair, keeping everything together while the night settles around us. For as long as she needs, I will make sure nothing reaches her here. Nothing touches her. Nothing asks anything more of her. Not tonight. In these quiet moments, she doesn’t need to answer to anyone. She just needs to know she is loved.