40-Cadens POV
The water is warm when I guide her in, steam already curling around us like silk. I press a kiss to the back of her shoulder as she steps beneath the spray, her breath catching softly as it glides over her marked skin.
Marks I put there.
Marks she put on me.
They don’t hurt—not now. They glow. Still tender, still healing, but somehow beautiful.
Baylee turns to me slowly, the look in her eyes softened now. There’s no urgency, no heat of war or lustful desperation. There’s only her, standing bare in front of me, chest rising and falling with every breath we share.
I cup her face with both hands, resting my forehead against hers.
“We’re okay,” I whisper, and I feel her exhale that truth with me.
Then, slowly, I kiss her.
Not to consume her this time.
But to honor her.
