Chapter 0175

The moment Dr. Whitmore entered and spoke, I recognized her voice—the same one I'd heard while drifting in and out of consciousness. She had been talking to Sebastian while I was unconscious. Valeria surged forward, a growl rumbling in her chest, but I yanked her back. We couldn’t risk exposure. Sebastian’s gaze lingered on me, sharp and assessing, but he remained silent.

When the doctor suggested reconnecting the IV, my pulse spiked. The thought of being tethered again sent ice through my veins. I’d spent seven years as a prisoner—I couldn’t go back to that helplessness. Relief flooded me when Sebastian intervened, demanding alternatives. I’d do anything to avoid restraints.

After she left, tension eased from my shoulders—until Sebastian mentioned a bath.

A bath.

Hot water. Soaking until my muscles unknotted. The coven’s showers had been frigid, designed for vampires who didn’t feel the cold. I’d learned to scrub fast, teeth chattering. It had been years since I’d felt real warmth.

I studied him, weighing the offer against potential traps.

He exhaled roughly. "I’m not playing games. You’ve been running through forests, then trapped with vampires for years. A bath might help. There’s a shower too, but you’re still weak. Standing that long could be dangerous."

My gaze flicked to the adjoining bathroom. The temptation was unbearable. "Okay."

His smile hit me like a physical blow. The man was striking normally, but when he smiled? Devastating. He should do it more often.

"Need help getting there?"

Absolutely not. "I can manage."

He nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water followed. I pushed upright, dragging the sheet around myself before sliding off the bed. My legs buckled instantly. The floor rushed up to meet me—

Strong arms caught me mid-fall. Sebastian lifted me effortlessly, his expression torn between irritation and concern. "You’re determined to undo all my hard work, aren’t you? A broken nose wouldn’t heal with licking, and you’re already anemic."

I curled against him, painfully aware the sheet hadn’t followed. Naked, I pressed into his chest, desperate for modesty. He adjusted his grip, testing the water one-handed like I weighed nothing. The sheer strength left me stunned.

When he lowered me into the tub, a moan escaped before I could stop it. Bliss. The heat stung my newer wounds but melted the aches deep in my muscles. I hugged my knees to my chest, shielding myself—but his gaze never dropped. He was already rummaging through shampoo bottles, eyes glazed in a mind-link trance.

He set the bottles beside me, then moved to the door. I thought he was leaving, but he only pushed it halfway shut before returning. "Lean back."

I stiffened. "What?"

"Your hair’s a disaster. I’m washing it."

I hesitated. His sigh was heavy as his hands settled on my shoulders. I flinched, but he leaned close, voice low. "I won’t hurt you. You’re under my protection now. Relax."