I stared at him, my heart doing a frantic, unsteady tap dance against my ribs. The ultimatum hung in the air, glittering and sharp. My mind raced, trying to find a witty retort, a clever deflection, anything to regain the upper hand. But my body was a traitor, a flush of heat creeping up my neck that had nothing to do with a fever and everything to do with the image his words painted in my mind.
"I… am perfectly capable of bathing myself," I finally managed, my voice sounding far steadier than I felt.
A low chuckle vibrated in his chest, a sound of pure triumph. "As you wish, princess." His eyes were dancing, alight with amusement and something deeper, something fiercely possessive. He still hadn't let go of my hand.
"Then let go of my hand, you giant sap," I grumbled, though my voice lacked any real bite.
He squeezed it once, a firm, comforting pressure, before finally releasing me. "Ready?"
