Chapter 40
Lumi-
The ride back from the forest was... intense. My thighs are still twitching from the effort it took to stay on top of him, aching from more than just the strain of gripping his shifted form.
I can still feel the way his muscles bunched and rolled beneath me—how every stride of his massive legs vibrated straight through my bones. Every time he growled, the sound rumbled through my lap and up my spine. He didn‘t just get us home—he lit a fuse I didn’t know I had.
The bathroom feels like it’s a bajillion degrees. Andrik whirls around me with quiet tenderness, his massive frame somehow graceful despite the cramped space. He tests the water with a clawed hand, adjusting the temperature until the steam blooms in soft clouds along the ceiling.
My skin feels two sizes too small. There’s a low hum pulsing in my center, like I’m standing too close to a live wire. I’m not just ‘hot’ anymore. I’m burning from the inside out, and I’m pretty sure if his eyes roam over my body one more time, I’m actually going to catch fire.
“Lumi?”
I blink. He’s watching me, one brow raised, a small glass bottle of light purple liquid in his hand.
“Sorry, what?”
His expression softens. “I asked if Lavender was alright, for the bath.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s... that’s perfect.”
Except it’s not perfect. Railing me on the forest floor would be perfect.
He uncorks the bottle and pours a few drops of the liquid into the water. The calming scent hits me immediately, but unless Jesus Christ himself made that oil, it’s not going to soothe a single part of me.
He reaches for another bottle, this one filled with chunky white crystals.
“Epsom salt,” he murmurs, pouring a generous amount into the tub. “For your muscles. You walked all day in the cold.”
I watch his hands flex, like every action is a small act of devotion. My chest tightens... and so does something else.
“You don’t have to do all this, Andri,” I say quietly. “I know how to run my own bath.”
He doesn’t look up from his herbal mixes. “Yeah, I do, Lumi. You’re my mate.”
“Andrik—”
“Let me take care of you, Lumi.” His voice is soft but firm. “Please.”
He tests the water one more time, then straightens, turning to face me fully. “Come here,” he says gently.
I take a step forward. Then another. Until I’m standing in front of him, close enough to feel the cool air that always ghosts from his skin. His hands reach for the hem of my shirt, the oversized tunic he gave me this morning, and he pauses.
“Is this okay?” he rasps.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Arms up,” he murmurs. I obey without thinking, and that pisses me off. I’ve never been the kind of girl who blindly follows commands. My muscles move before my brain can protest, yielding to him with a terrifying, magnetic hunger.
My body is no longer a democracy—it’s a kingdom, and it already knows its King.
Slowly, he lifts the fabric up my torso. The blunt edges of his claws graze my ribs, a lethal contrast to the softness they’re uncovering. I shiver from the way his gaze drags over my bare flesh.
He reaches for the ties of my pants next, tracing over my hipbones as they pool at my feet.
The heat coursing through my body is so overwhelming it’s all I can focus on. His nostrils flare, and his fangs bite out from under his lip.
“Andrik?” My voice comes out breathier than I mean it to.
His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
I am anything but fine. I’m dead. I’m actively dying.
His eyes narrow. “Lumi.”
“I’m fine,” I insist. Fucking liar. Every nerve ending feels like it’s exposed near a bonfire.
My thighs press together, and his eyes track the movement before snapping back up.
He exhales slowly through his nose.
“Get in the water,” he says, voice strained. “Before I lick every last drop of heat dripping from your skin.”
“Maybe I want—”
His claws flex, scraping the edge of the tub
“Lumi.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something stupid like please do and turn toward the tub instead.
The first step makes me hiss. The warm water should feel relaxing against my aching muscles, but it just feels... like soaking in a hot tub.
I sink down slowly, every inch of my body screaming in protest. The scent of lavender wraps around me, and I let my head fall back against the edge of the tub with a soft thud.
Andrik hasn’t moved. I can feel his eyes on me, tracking every moment.
“You can leave, you know,” I murmur, eyes still closed. “I’m not going to drown.”
The longer you’re in here, the longer I have to fight climbing you like a big ass tree full of muscle...and fur.. and oh my God. I want him.
“I know.”
But he doesn’t leave.
The water laps against my skin as I shift, trying to find a position that doesn’t make me feel like I’m soaking in the flames of hell. Nothing works. I lean up to turn on the cold water, but Andrik beats me to it.
“Getting hotter?”
Oh. If you only knew, big guy. I’m pretty sure I’d melt his snow-cone clean off if I sat in his lap right now.
The ache is getting worse—spreading from my core outward like roots digging deeper.
“Andrik,” I breathe, and I hate how desperate I sound. I close my eyes as if that will make the answer easier to hear. “How much worse is this going to get?”
He’s silent, then I hear him move closer, the soft scrape of his claws against the wood floor,
“This is just the beginning, Lumi.”
I crack one eye open to glare at him.
“How do I make it stop?”
His expression is unreadable. “You can’t.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“I know.” He crouches beside the tub, close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted, and God do I want to. “The only thing that eases it is—”
“Don’t say it,” I cut him off, closing my eyes again. “Don’t say the one thing we can’t do.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating.
“I’ll make you some tea,” he says finally, standing up and taking a step back from the tub. “And something to eat. That might help.”
The only way it’s going to help is if I’m lick that tea off his...
No. Don’t go there. Focus.
Saevel suddenly hops onto the edge of the tub. His paws are silent, but his weight ripples the water. He doesn’t look like a mischievous forest spirit now; he looks like a worried puppy.
He lets out a low whine and nudges my shoulder with his nose. It’s barely a touch at all, but for a split second, the fire in my nerves actually dulls.
“He loves you so much, Sael?n,” He whispers. “He wants to take the pain away. I do, too.”
He turns and walks out before I can beg him to come back, leaving me alone with a spectral fox and a bathtub full of useless lavender.
I sink deeper into the water until it laps at my chin, letting out a frustrated groan that echoes off the walls.
This is torture. Literal torture. I wonder how long I can hold my breath.
I press my thighs together, trying to ease the ache, but it only makes it worse. My hands drift lower—
No.
I yank them back up and grip the edge of the tub. I will not touch myself in Andrik’s tub while he’s downstairs making me tea like some domestic fantasy from one of my dark romance books.
I won’t.
... probably.
The water sloshes as I shift again, and that’s when I hear a soft thump against the window.
I freeze.
Not again. Oh my god. Not again. My eyes snap to the frosted window above the tub.
“Uh, Andrik?” I call down the hallway...”Something is outside the bathroom window.”
Before I even get the end of my sentence out, I hear the front door flying open and slamming into the wall.
A few moments later, I hear footsteps coming up the stairs and an odd thumping sound. Then I hear a little chittering noise.
What the hell is that?
Before I can even process what’s happening, a small, slick body launches itself through the doorway and lands in the water with a splash.
I shriek.
A tiny otter pops its head up right between my knees, whiskers twitching, holding my razor in its little paws like a weapon.
We stare at each other.
“What the—”
Andrik steps inside the bathroom; his gaze lands on the otter. Then on me. Then back to the otter, who squeaks triumphantly and dunks back under the bubbles.
“I—” I start, wide-eyed.
“Well, who are you? Did you see his little paws? Look at his little paws, Andrik—he’s holding my razor like a tiny sword.”
Andrik does that very slow blink he does when he’s trying not to lose it.
“That,” he says flatly, “is an Elvenkai. A sacred water spirit.”
The otter surfaces again, tosses the razor with a proud squeak, and steals the bar of soap from the edge of the tub.
“Not a bath gremlin,” Andrik adds, deadpan.
The Elvenkai dunks under the water, raises its brows at me before it dunks under the water like a smug little cryptid.
Andrik POV-
Saevel blinks once, then looks up at me. The singular look somehow manages to communicate both divine patience and absolute disdain for the Elvenkai.
I huff out the ghost of a laugh and then look back to Lumi.
She’s still low in the bath, shoulders bare, hair damp and curling at the ends. Completely taken with the little animal swimming lazy laps around her.
I’ve lived through countless seasons in these woods—long, hollow years with only the wind and my own breath to keep time. But not once has the Ring of Witness ever assembled without blood, flame, or vows being exchanged in the wake of a sacred mating bond.
But today they all came.
They bowed at her feet.
And they imprinted for life.
A ripple disrupts the surface of the water. A small, sleek shape breaches the surface beside Lumi’s legs, chirping in delight. The little creature blinks up at her, then pops his head fully above the water and paddles forward with unearned confidence.
Balanced between his tiny front paws, like an offering, is a pale green pebble
It’s not the stone that catches my attention, but what shimmers inside it—veins of opalescent silver, threaded like vines around a pale white stone.
A ring.
Lumi stares at it, wide-eyed.
“For me?”