I was silent the entire way home, my thoughts a tangled mess I couldn’t begin to unravel. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of deep crimson and violet as the last light of day faded. A cool mist began to creep in from the forest, rolling over the land like a silken veil, bringing with it the crisp scent of nightfall. Lennon kept glancing at me, concern etched into the lines of his face, but he didn’t press. His silence was a comfort in its own way, a space for me to find my footing again. When we finally arrived at the cottage, he moved with quiet purpose, running a bath without a word. The sound of water filling the tub echoed softly in the small space, and soon the scent of lavender began to rise with the steam, beckoning me to melt into it’s gentle embrace. The fragrance was soothing, earthy, and floral, mingling with the warmth in the air, and for a moment, I felt the tension in my body start to melt away. It was as if the lavender itself was whispering to me, telling me it was okay to let go, to let the water and warmth wash away the remnants of the day.
“I have to go run an errand,” he said. “This bath will heal you. Don’t open the door for anyone. I won’t be long.”
I nodded. He stepped out of the cottage, and as the door closed behind him, all three locks clicked into place, one after the other, with a soft metallic clang. The tang of magic hung heavy in the air, making my skin prickle. Through the drawn curtains, I watched his silhouette. Suddenly, massive wings unfurled from his back, their shadow stretching across the room, while sharp talons shot through his fingertips. I gasped, my heart pounding in my chest, amazement mingling with fear. The two emotions warring within me as I tried to comprehend the power he wielded, even in this place where it was supposed to be depleted. And then, in one fluid motion, his silhouette blurred, wings slicing through the air as he took off, vanishing into the night with a speed that left me breathless. An errand. I had a feeling that errand involved four heavily inked, shirtless Sidhe with a death wish. But I didn’t dwell on the thought, not with that healing bath beckoning me. The warmth of the bath seeped into my bones, easing every muscle until my thoughts drifted away. For the first time in what felt like ages, I found a few precious moments of peace. Thoughts of Lennon floated to the surface of my awareness. His unexpected arrival, slicing through the dark alley to rescue me from those vile male Sidhe, had woven a new thread of trust between us. In the aftermath of the chaos, as I thought about at him, I saw not just a protector, but someone who had genuinely stepped in when I needed it most. That act of bravery had shifted something deep within me, altering the landscape of our relationship. The fear and suspicion that had once clouded my view of him began to clear, replaced by a burgeoning sense of comfort. I felt a tentative warmth growing, a subtle assurance that I wasn’t alone. The walls I had so carefully built around myself started to crumble, allowing a sliver of trust and familiarity to seep in. The bond between us had transformed, and with it, I felt an unexpected and comforting sense of safety. As the water embraced me, I wasn’t sure how much time had passed—minutes, hours? It didn’t matter. I was content, floating in the warmth of the bath, and the comfort of knowing I wasn’t alone.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my reverie. “Can I come in?” Lennon’s voice was muffled but unmistakable.
I felt amazing. Maybe Lennon put some special confidence boosting magic in the water. Maybe it was my body trying to balance itself with the polar opposite of what I’d just experienced, but something about this bath gave me confidence. I didn’t have a worry in the world, and it was liberating. I scooted to the edge of the tub, draping my arms over the side to ensure he wouldn’t see anything more than I intended.
“Yes,” I answered, my voice steady, though my heart picked up its pace.
He entered the cottage, his steps quiet but purposeful. When he saw me still in the bath, his eyes widened in surprise, and for a fleeting moment, I caught the flash of nerves in his expression. It was endearing, the way he suddenly seemed unsure, his usual confidence faltering. His discomfort made me smile, a small but genuine curve of my lips, as if the sight of me like this had shaken something in him—something that made him more human, more real. My endearment was short-lived as Lennon stepped into the light, plopping down a large duffle bag and revealing himself in full. The warmth of the moment evaporated, leaving only the harsh reality in its place. His clothes were torn, hanging in shreds from his body, and blood streaked across his skin. There were no wings, no talons, but he looked like he had just fought a monster and barely escaped. The sight of him, battered and bloodied, sent a shiver down my spine, all traces of my earlier contentment fleeing in the face of the fear now gnawing at my insides. The bathwater suddenly felt too cold, too exposed. Everything in me screamed to leap from the bath and rush to his side, to do something—anything—to help him. But I was naked, vulnerable, and the thought of exposing myself held me in place. My fingers gripped the edge of the tub, knuckles white as I forced myself to stay still, to push down the instinct to act.
"What happened?" The question came out softer than I intended, laced with the fear and concern I couldn't hide.
“No one in The Dread will think twice about hurting you again.” he flinched, removing his shirt.
As he slowly peeled off his torn shirt, the fabric clinging to his skin, I couldn’t help but stare. His muscles were sculpted, defined in a way that only years of training—or perhaps centuries—could achieve. Every movement revealed the power beneath his skin, the ripple of strength in his chest and arms as the shirt fell away. But it was the cuts that caught my breath, the gashes that should have been bleeding heavily, yet were already knitting together before my eyes. His immortal body, resilient and relentless, was healing itself with every passing second. The edges of each wound fused seamlessly, leaving behind faint lines where the skin had torn. It was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once, a reminder of the world I was now a part of—a world where even pain was fleeting, and nothing was as it seemed. My focus shattered as he grabbed an oversized towel and held it out in front of the tub, his head turned and his gaze deliberately averted. I stood, the water slipping away, and stepped into the towel, wrapping it tightly around myself.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"Did you kill them?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
He laughed, returning to his usual coy nonchalance, “No, I just hurt them bad enough for everyone to talk about it.”
As the bathwater slowly drained away, he began unbuttoning his pants with an unhurried, deliberate calm that belied the chaos I had just witnessed. I quickly turned my back, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. The sound of water being replenished was soothing, a stark contrast to the tension still thick in the air. I heard the soft splash as he slid into the tub.
“You can turn around now,” he chuckled.
The new water, now frothy with bubbles, concealed his naked form, creating a veil of frothy white that obscured his body from view. Watching this powerful Sidhe in the simple act of bathing felt almost surreal after everything that had happened.
“I want bubbles next time!” I teased.
“Note taken,” he said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back, his mouth parting open with a sigh.
Seeing him so relaxed stirred something inside me, a warmth that quickly spread through my veins. I felt my blood begin to heat up, only to remember with a jolt that he would scent my body’s reaction. Hastily, I tried to shift my thoughts, but they inevitably returned to the most recent events, stirring up a wave of anxiety that had the opposite effect.
“Check the duffle bag,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. His eyes closed, basking in the healing magic of the bath.
I opened the duffle bag with trembling hands, and my breath caught in my throat as I peered inside. Nestled among the contents was a stunning silk nightgown, its fabric shimmering with an almost ethereal glow. I glanced back at Lennon to make sure his eyes remained closed, and when I confirmed they were, I slipped into the nightgown, its cool touch sending a shiver of comfort down my spine. As I continued to sift through the bag, I discovered it was brimming with an array of exquisite garments—dresses that seemed spun from moonlight, delicate shoes, gloves that whispered of elegance, scarves that promised warmth, and plush luxurious coats. All of them in the hues of Visu, every shade of blue imaginable, each piece more breathtaking than the last. At the very bottom lay a brand new set of leathers, similar to the ones i’d shown up wearing. The scales of the leather were various shades of iridescent blue, with a V imprinted on the shoulder.
“Mother above,” I whispered, “These are stunning Lennon!”
“Oh good,” he said in such a carefree tone.
As I watched him, sprawled out in that tub and exuding such an effortless calm, I couldn’t help but marvel at his nonchalance. After seeing him return, bloodied and torn, it seemed almost surreal that he could be so at ease now. How could he be so relaxed? Was this normal for him? He had hinted at fighting in wars, and I wondered if after centuries of existence, he had become adept at compartmentalizing the chaos and violence that might haunt others. The idea that he had mastered the art of keeping his turbulent emotions at bay was both intriguing and inspiring. Perhaps this was a skill honed through countless battles and heartbreaks, a way to protect himself from the weight of his experiences.
“Are you decent?” he asked, eyes still closed.
“I am thanks to you”
He opened his eyes and they swept over me with an intensity that made my breath catch. His gaze roved from the delicate silk of my nightgown, lingering on each curve with an almost palpable hunger. As his eyes darkened, a primal glint flared within them, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his lips. I smiled back. It was as though he saw me not just as I was but as something irresistible, a tantalizing prospect that stirred something deep and instinctual within him. The way he looked at me, with that smoldering, almost feral expression, made me acutely aware of a magnetic pull between us, leaving me both thrilled and unnerved. The conflicting surge of emotions within me left me reeling. His gaze, hot and appreciative, ignited a spark of self-worth that made me feel beautiful in a way I hadn’t known before. Yet, that warmth was a stark contrast to the humiliation and revulsion that had settled deep within me after the encounter with the four males from earlier. Their cruel treatment had made me feel like the most hideous, vulnerable thing in existence. Standing there, caught between these opposing forces—his admiring eyes and the image of their degrading sneers—left me in a whirlwind of confusion. It was as if I were both radiant and repulsive, a tumultuous blend of self-doubt and confidence that tangled together in a disorienting dance. Everything felt like an unending weight, pressing down on me until I could barely breathe. The disorienting haze of lost memories, the chaotic bustle of the vendors, the harrowing confrontation with those four males, and Veronika’s dismissive cruelty—it all melded into a suffocating fog. Each fragment of my shattered confidence seemed to sap more of my strength, leaving me drained and weary. A deep yawn escaped me, and I shuffled towards the bed, my steps slow and heavy. The soft, inviting bedspread beckoned with a promise of respite, and as I sank into its warmth, the exhaustion overtook me. I burrowed beneath the covers, seeking solace in the cocoon of softness. As I settled in, the last thing I heard was the gentle splashes of water from the tub, where Lennon remained.
“Thank you for everything Lennon,” I mustered out in a daze. I don’t remember if he responded. The turmoil of the world outside faded into the comforting embrace of dreams. Sleep claimed me swiftly, a welcome escape from the tumultuous swirl of my day.