Lucien set Elian down only long enough to lock the chamber door.
Then, he laced his hand around Elian's waist and led him to the washroom.
Steam curled from the wide stone bath. The water was already drawn, warm and scented faintly with sweet essential oil.
Lucien stripped without ceremony—coat, shirt, boots. "May I take your clothes off?" he asked softly.
Elian smiled and nodded gently. "Yes."
He moved closer to Elian and worked his tunic up and off with careful hands, as if Elian might shatter from the earlier strain.
"You're still pale," Lucien murmured.
"I'm still yours, Lucien," Elian answered, and that was enough.
Lucien smiled. "You're so beautiful, El," he whispered, and lifted him again and stepped into the water, settling with Elian across his lap, back to Lucien's chest.
Heat closed around them.
"Mmm, this feels good, Lucien," Elian hummed, his head tipping onto Lucien's shoulder.
