Chapter 0176

I can't let my guard down, but I obey, leaning back into the water. My gaze flicks up, searching for that same predatory hunger I saw in the vampires' eyes. But Sebastian's attention isn't on my body—it's fixed on my hair. Strange.

His palm cradles the back of my head, lifting it just above the surface. With his free hand, he scoops water and lets it cascade over my scalp. The rhythm is hypnotic, and against my will, the tension bleeds from my muscles. His focus is absolute—until he meets my stare and winks.

"Your eyes," he murmurs. "Like storm clouds over the ocean. I've never seen that shade before."

A gentle pressure urges me upright. He reaches for the bottles lining the tub's edge, sniffing each with increasing frustration before selecting one. Shampoo lathers between his palms before his fingers sink into my hair. The moment they massage my scalp, a whimper escapes me. It's been years since anyone touched me with kindness. The sensation is almost painful in its sweetness.

A clatter outside the door jolts me rigid. Sebastian doesn't pause. "Just the staff changing your sheets," he soothes, voice velvet-soft. "You deserve clean linens after this." The way he speaks—like I'm some skittish creature—makes my throat tighten.

"Lean back." Water sluices through my hair, his fingers combing out suds. When I resurface, conditioner follows, then the slow drag of a brush through snarled strands.

"Gorgeous," he breathes. "I've wondered about its true length."

"Past my waist, last I checked." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. "No scissors in years."

"Would you like it cut?" His thumb grazes a knot. "Though I'll admit—I'm partial to long hair."

I twist to study him. There's something unsettling about how enthralled he seems by something as simple as hair. Another wink. This alpha is an enigma.

A washcloth appears in my periphery. "You can wash yourself while I finish here." His tone implies this will take a while.

I eye the unmarked bottles. Before I can choose, he plucks one free. "Try this." Vanilla blooms when I uncap it—pleasant, though I'd have picked something fruitier. Berries, maybe.

As he works, I scrub my arms, avoiding the worst of the scars. My wrists are a lattice of old wounds, the skin deceptively smooth over lingering tenderness. Higher up, the puncture marks from fangs ridge my shoulders. Disgust coils in my gut. How can he stand to look at me?

Tears hit the water before I realize they're falling. What if Valeria can't heal these? What if I'm forever marked by that monster's cruelty?

Sebastian stills the brush. His fingers tilt my chin up. "Scars mean you survived," he says, fierce as a vow. "They're proof you're stronger than whatever tried to break you. Wear them with pride, Seraphina. Few could endure what you have."

I nod, swiping at my cheeks. The water has cooled when he finally drains it, refilling the tub with fresh heat.

"Better?"

"Yes." My voice cracks. "It's been... a long time since I felt warm."

"Ask me anything." The invitation hangs between us.

I turn, meeting those ocean-deep eyes. "Why are you doing this?"