Chapter 85 Taking Care Of Me
“Violet and I are just friends,” Cassain says, letting go of me as he walks into the bathroom. I hear water running a second later as he turns on the bath.
“Friends?” I ask, my voice shaky. “Like we were?”
He goes still, his back to me.
“No,” he says after a pause. “Not like us.”
I glance down at my feet, suddenly aware of how soaked I am. Water drips from my clothes onto the floor, and the cold has sunk so deep into my bones I can barely feel my fingers.
Cassain steps back into the room, his focus snapping right back to me like he can’t stand the distance between us.
“There’s nothing between Violet and me,” he says, his tone steady but firm as he slides my bag off my shoulders. “We agreed to the marriage for the Pack. That’s all it is. There’s no love there. No attraction.”
“Oh…” I nod faintly. “Okay.”
Relief spreads through me, quiet but powerful. Not just from losing the weight of the bag—but from knowing he isn’t as far gone from me as I feared.
“In fact,” he continues, “she has someone else. Ciara. She lives here now, pretending to be staff.”
My jacket is peeled off next, dropping to the floor with a soft, wet sound.
“That’s… kind of you,” I murmur, still processing.
“It’s fair,” he replies simply.
Then his hands move to the hem of my shirt, starting to lift it.
I catch his wrists quickly, startled. “Wait—Cassain… you’re undressing me?”
“You’re freezing,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You need the bath.”
I glance toward the bathroom. Steam curls softly into the air. The thought of warmth is tempting—too tempting.
That’s not what makes my heart race.
The last time he touched me like this was when he had me up against the barn wall.
But isn’t that. This is careful. Gentle.
And somehow… that feels even more overwhelming.
I let my hands fall away.
“…Yeah,” I whisper. “I want the bath.”
He pulls my shirt over my head, his movements steady and controlled. There’s no hunger in his gaze, no lingering glances—just focus. Care.
Still, my breath catches.
“You know I’m going to kill him,” he says suddenly, like it’s already decided.
“Cassain, don’t,” I say quickly. “Please. Let’s just… get through tonight first.”
He doesn’t argue, but his expression doesn’t soften either.
Instead, he kneels slightly, unfastening my pants and easing them down. I step out of them, along with my shoes and socks, leaving them in a damp pile.
“Why did he do it?” he asks.
“I confronted him,” I admit, shifting slightly under his attention.
He stands again, reaching behind me to undo my bra with careful fingers.
“I found out he’d been hiding something from me,” I add softly.
My breath catches as the cool air brushes over my breasts, sending a shiver through me despite the warmth of the room.
Cassain’s eyes flick over me for the briefest second, his jaw tightening before he looks away.
“What did you confront him about?” he asks, his voice controlled as his hands move to the last layer, carefully guiding it down so I don’t have to move too much.
“Your letters,” I admit quietly. “He was burning them. I found pieces in the fireplace.”
The words taste bitter.
I feel foolish now. Of course Cassain wrote to me. After everything we were to each other… how did I ever believe he wouldn’t?
He stills for a moment, eyes closing as he draws in a slow breath, trying to steady himself.
“Come on,” he says finally, his voice softer but strained. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then I’ll take care of your cheek.”
Cheek?
I hadn’t even realised the skin had split.
He guides me into the bathroom, turning off the taps before helping me step into the bath.
When I step in, the heat stings at first, sharp against my sore feet—but then it melts into something soothing, something I didn’t realise I needed this badly.
I don’t let go of his hand until I’m fully settled.
He stays right there beside the tub.
“It’s… really good to see you again,” I say, turning my head toward him with a small, tired smile.
His hand slides gently into my hair, guiding me back so the water soaks through it.
“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he murmurs. “I should’ve done something… anything.”
His voice trails off, frustration flickering across his face as he shakes his head.
I lean into his touch as he works through my hair, his fingers slow and careful. The scent is familiar, comforting in a way that makes my chest ache.
“I didn’t know he could be like that,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “It was like he became someone else.” The memory makes my stomach twist.
Cassain stills for a moment, that quiet anger settling back into him.
“No one will ever hurt you again,” he says, his voice low and certain as he rinses my hair.
There’s no doubt in it. No hesitation.
I swallow, my throat tight. “So… I can stay?”
He exhales softly, like the question doesn’t even make sense.
“Nova,” he says, softer now, though his grip on me is still firm, “you’d be out of your mind to think otherwise.”
His fingers move through my hair again, slower this time.
“I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.”
A small smile pulls at my lips.
His possessiveness should probably scare me—but it doesn’t. Not even a little.
Because the truth is… I don’t want to leave either.
This place… it’s home.
He’s home.
I study his face—the sharp lines of his jaw, the tension sitting heavy in his expression, the quiet anger still lingering beneath the surface. Even like this, he’s unfairly beautiful. Familiar in a way that makes my chest ache.
For a split second, I think about that night.
The kiss.
How clearly I still remember it.
“We should probably talk about… everything,” I say, my voice tight. “Before I left.”
That unfinished piece has been sitting between us for months.
“Tomorrow,” Cassain murmurs. “Not tonight.”
His tone isn’t dismissive, just certain.
“Right now, I’m taking care of you. Then you’re getting into my bed.”
There’s no room to argue.
He rinses the last of the soap from my hair, his attention flicking between what he’s doing and my face. Every time his eyes land on the bruise, something dark settles deeper into his expression.
When he’s done, he helps me out of the bath and wraps a warm towel around me before turning me toward the mirror.
I flinch at my reflection.
My eye is swollen, the skin around it dark and bruised. My cheekbone is worse—angry shades of purple and blue, split just enough to sting when I move.
I let out a breath. “I look awful.”
Cassain gently starts brushing through my damp, tangled hair.
“Nothing about you is ruined,” he says quietly. “Especially not by someone like him.”
My eyes lift to meet his in the mirror, something soft twisting in my chest.
“Thank you… for coming back,” he adds, voice lower now. “For trusting me.”
I give him a small smile. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
He turns me gently, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before moving to the counter. A moment later, he returns with something to clean the cut.
The second it touches my skin, I gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders.
“Easy,” he murmurs, steadying me. He works quickly, careful but efficient, before covering it with a small bandage. “There. Done.”
I exhale, relaxing again. “Thank you.”
My eyes drift toward the bedroom. “That bed looks… amazing. I’m so tired.”
He doesn’t leave my side as he guides me there, even though I can walk perfectly fine. I don’t stop him.
I know this—taking care of me—is something he needs just as much.
He pulls the covers back and helps me in before sliding in beside me, pulling me close without hesitation.
The warmth of him, the familiarity—it hits all at once.
Comfort. Safety.
Something I didn’t realise I’d been missing this much.
His arms wrap around me, firm and steady, like he’s making sure I can’t slip away again. The room goes dark as he puts out the light.
And for the first time in a long while… I feel at peace.
“I missed you, Nova,” he whispers against my hair.
Sleep starts to pull me under, soft and heavy.
“You’re finally home.”