Chapter 360: Caring for Her
Draven.
I led her into the bathing chamber. The air was warm and fragrant with the vanilla, rose petals, and sandalwood weaving together like a gentle spell.
Candlelight flickered against the marble walls, their glow soft enough to make the whole room feel alive.
She stood there for a moment, her eyes sweeping over the bath. The water glistened, its surface shimmering with small ripples and floating petals.
When she turned to me, her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.
"Let me," I murmured.
I stepped closer, my fingers finding the hem of her sweater. Her breath caught, but she didn’t move away.
Slowly, I pulled the fabric upward, my fingertips brushing against the soft skin of her waist. The sweater came off easily, and I set it aside.
Her pulse fluttered beneath her throat when my hands found the clasp of her trousers. I met her gaze—searching, asking, before I unfastened them.
She nodded, almost imperceptibly, so I slid the fabric down her legs, and she stepped out of them.
Every motion felt sacred and deliberate, from reverence.
I trailed my knuckles down her arm, over her wrist, then laced my fingers through hers.
"You’ve been through enough today," I said quietly. "Let me wash it away."
Her eyes softened, glimmering in the candlelight.
Next, I helped her step into the bath. The water kissed her skin, rising slowly around her body. She released a small sigh, that sound of release and surrender as the warmth enveloped her.
I rolled my sleeves up and knelt beside the tub. Reaching for the bowl beside me, I filled it and gently poured water over her shoulders. Petals floated down with it, sticking briefly to her skin before drifting away.
"Is it too hot?" I asked.
She shook her head. "It’s perfect."
I picked up the sponge and began to wash her arms and her back in slow circles and careful pressure, wiping away the faint traces of blood she hadn’t even realized were still there.
Then, she leaned into my touch, her breathing steady now. When I brushed my hand along her collarbone and the surface of her breasts, she tilted her head slightly toward me.
"Draven..." she whispered, my name soft as breath.
I met her gaze. "Yes?"
She smiled faintly, giving me the first genuine smile since the attack. "You are making it hard for me to think straight."
A low chuckle escaped me. "Then don’t think. Just feel."
Her laughter was quiet, warm, almost fragile. I leaned closer, letting my thumb trace the side of her neck, then pressed my lips against her temple.
"You really did well today," I whispered against her skin. "And I’m super proud of you."
Her eyes glistened again, then she turned slightly, her hand reaching for my cheek, and she kissed me slowly, deeply, and unhurriedly.
It was the kind of kiss that conveyed everything words could never express.
When she drew back, I smiled and whispered, "Finish your bath. I will be back."
"Mmm." She hummed and gave me a small smile, so I left for my dressing room, picked out something for her to wear, and carried it to the bedroom.
By the time I returned to the bathroom, the water had begun to cool, so I reached for a towel.
"Come," I said softly.
She rose slowly, the ripples gliding away from her skin. I held the towel open and wrapped it around her, drawing her into my arms in the same motion.
She didn’t resist. She simply leaned into my chest, her cheek pressing against me, her breath warm through the fabric of my shirt.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The world outside didn’t exist. There was only the sound of her breathing, the faint beating of her heart, and the soft rustle of petals drifting in the water behind us.
I brushed her damp hair back from her face and whispered, "You have carried enough weight for one day, my love. Now, it’s time to relax."
She looked up at me then, her eyes glossy and her lips parted. I knew she wanted to say something, but I didn’t wait for her to try. Instead, I lifted her effortlessly into my arms.
Her towel slipped slightly, but she held it to herself as she curled against me.
Carrying her back into my bedroom, I set her gently on the edge of the bed.
"Stay still," I murmured.
Then, I retrieved another towel, kneeling before her. One by one, I dried her legs, her arms, the delicate curve of her shoulders.
She kept her quiet and watchful eyes on me the whole time, as if trying to understand something in me she couldn’t quite name.
When I finished, I reached for the comb on the bed and began to untangle her hair. My fingers moved slowly and tenderly, separating each lock until it flowed like silk between them.
"You don’t have to do that," she whispered.
"I know," I said, meeting her eyes briefly. "But I want to."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "You are being unusually gentle tonight."
"I have always been gentle." I gave a small laugh, then quickly added, "Plus, you killed two vampires today. I think you’ve earned it."
When her hair was dry and smooth, I gathered it loosely at the back and helped her into her nightdress.
Then, I brushed my thumb across her jaw. "Lie down, Meredith."
She hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, reclining onto the sheets. I pulled the blanket over her, tucking it gently beneath her chin.
As I straightened, she caught my hand and held it against her cheek.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
"I wasn’t planning to leave," I replied and slipped in next to her.
Immediately, she shifted closer and rested her head on my chest. I draped an arm around her, tracing idle circles on her shoulder as her breathing slowed.
The silence between us wasn’t heavy; it was the kind that felt earned, healing.
Just before she drifted off, she mumbled, "Thank you... for not letting me fall apart."
I pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Never," I murmured. "Not while I’m breathing."
And as her heartbeat steadied against mine, I realized something I hadn’t before—that protecting and caring for her wasn’t just my duty as her mate or her husband.
It was the one thing that made me feel humane again.