Chapter 130: Steam and Surrender

Seraphine's POV

The words hung in the air between us. Sweet. Promising. Too good to be true.

I pulled back, putting space between our bodies. My right leg screamed in protest, the broken bone shifting inside the splint. Fuck. I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that hit me.

"Where are you going?" Kaelen's voice was laced with concern, his hand already reaching for me.

"I need to shower." I swung my legs off the bed, every movement sending fresh jolts of pain through my body. "I'm covered in blood and sweat. I can smell myself and it's disgusting."

His hand caught my wrist, firm but not rough. "You can barely walk."

"I'll manage." I yanked free, meeting his eyes with a stubborn glare.

"Seraphine—"

"I said I'll manage."

I stood, and immediately regretted it. Pain lanced through my leg, white-hot and vicious. I stumbled, grabbing the bedpost to keep from collapsing. Shit. My knuckles went white around the carved wood, and I could feel his eyes on me. Watching. Waiting for me to admit I needed help.

"Let me help you." He was already standing, moving toward me with that fluid grace that came so naturally to him.

"I don't need help." The words came out sharper than I intended, defensive.

"You can barely stand."

"I'm fine." I took a step. My leg buckled. Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor, and I wanted to scream at the humiliation of it all. At how weak I'd become.

"Fine," he said dryly, his chest solid against my back. "Absolutely fine."

I wanted to punch him. Instead, I let him steady me, hating every second of needing his support. The bathroom door was only ten feet away, but it might as well have been a mile. Each hop was agony, each breath a reminder of the broken ribs that hadn't fully healed yet.

"I can do this myself," I insisted when we reached the threshold, my pride the only thing keeping me upright.

"Of course you can." His tone suggested otherwise, and I caught the hint of amusement in those black eyes.

I grabbed the doorframe, using it to support my weight. "Out."

I pushed into the bathroom and closed the door in his face, then leaned against it, breathing hard. Steam from the still-warm shower clung to the mirrors, but I could see my reflection through the haze.

Jesus Christ. Blood dried on my neck, both sides now marked with his bites. Bruises bloomed across my ribs in shades of purple and yellow. My auburn hair was a tangled mess, matted with sweat and who knows what else. I looked like I'd been through a war.

I turned on the water, watching steam immediately billow up, fogging the glass. I grabbed the shower door and tried to step over the threshold. My right leg gave out. I pitched forward, arms windmilling uselessly.

The bathroom door burst open with a bang. "Your stubbornness will get you killed." Kaelen's voice was angry and worried in equal measure.

He was at my side in seconds, steadying me before I could hit the tiles. His hands were firm on my waist, and I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"I told you to stay out."

"And I told you that you need help." His jaw was set, those four pupils in each eye dilating slightly as he looked down at me.

We glared at each other, steam swirling between us like a physical barrier. The water continued to run, the sound echoing off the marble walls.

"I don't need—"

"You can't even stand."

"I can manage—"

"You'll fall and break something else." His grip tightened slightly, not painful but possessive.

"So what?" I snapped, feeling my control slip. "At least I'll do it on my own terms."

Something flickered in his eyes then. Understanding, maybe. Recognition of that desperate need for autonomy that I'd been clinging to since this whole mess started.

"I get it," he said quietly, his voice softer now. "You hate needing anyone."

"I don't need anyone." But the words sounded hollow even to me.

"Right now? You do." He started unbuttoning his shirt, black fabric sliding off those pale shoulders. The movement was casual, practiced, like he'd done this a thousand times before.

My stomach dropped, and heat that had nothing to do with the spring heat flooded my face. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you shower." He pulled off his shirt completely, revealing the lean muscles of his torso. The bite mark I'd left on his throat stood out angry and red against his pale skin.

"Like hell you are."

"You have two options." He kicked off his pants without hesitation, completely unbothered by his nakedness. "Let me help. Or fall and hurt yourself worse."

"There's a third option." I looked away, my face burning. "You leave."

"Not happening." His voice was final, brooking no argument.

This was different from the sex. That had been primal, driven by the spring heat coursing through our veins. Mindless. Inevitable. This was intimate in a way that made my skin crawl, that made me want to run despite my broken leg. This was him seeing me weak and broken and choosing to stay anyway.

"I don't want you to see me like this," I muttered, still not looking at him.

"Like what?"

"Weak. Broken. Pathetic." The words tasted bitter on my tongue.

"You're not weak." His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "Running from Damien and human hunters. Escaping Shadowmere in the middle of the night. Making a scene at the Moon Festival. Standing up at the funeral and admitting Damien aiming at you... A weak person couldn't do any of that shit."

"You saved me." The admission hurt almost as much as my injuries. "More than once."

"And I needed you to forgive me." He stepped into the shower, water immediately soaking his ash-white hair, turning it silver. "We all need help sometimes, Seraphine. That doesn't make us weak."