The bathing chamber was a dream carved from moonlight and myth.
Smooth black stone lined the sunken tub, and water as clear as glass steamed gently, scattered with floating blooms that opened and closed like they breathed.
Above them, the ceiling mimicked a night sky, stars slowly swirling, soft music humming from unseen crystals.
Salviana stepped into the warmth first, letting the water embrace her sore limbs. Alaric watched from the edge, his shirt already half-unbuttoned, jaw tight.
She glanced back. "You're just going to stare?"
He smirked and stepped in after her.
The water rose around them, cradling their bodies in heat and scent. Their knees brushed. Then his hand found her waist under the surface. She didn't pull away.
For a while, they said nothing—just soaked, breathed, leaned into each other.
Then he kissed her.
Softly at first, like he was testing her. Then deeper—hungrier.
