Chapter 58: Do You Understand Sarcasm, Elaine?
Elaine didn’t say anything when she lifted me, but the look in her eyes made it clear she had already decided I wasn’t going anywhere on my own. I let out a frustrated breath and clung to her shoulder anyway, because there was no point pretending I could walk properly in my condition.
"Put me down," I muttered, though even I could hear how weak the protest sounded. Elaine was weakening my resolve... no, she wasn’t. I am just thinking things. Unnecessary things.
"No."
That single word, calm and absolute, made my jaw tighten.
She carried me into the bathing chamber with the same effortless ease she’d used all morning, as if I weighed nothing at all. The room was warm, filled with soft steam and the scent of clean water, lavender soap, and something faintly floral that lingered in the air like a quiet promise. Candles flickered low along the stone ledges, and the bath itself had already been drawn, the water shimmering beneath the warm glow.
Elaine set me down at the edge first, not hurried, not careless. Her hand remained at my back for a second longer than necessary, steadying me while I adjusted. My body protested the moment I shifted, and I hissed softly before I could stop myself.
Elaine’s expression changed at once. "Too much?"
"I’m fine," I lied automatically.
She gave me a long look that made it obvious she didn’t believe me for even a second. "You are very committed to saying that."
"I’m also very committed to not letting you coddle me."
Her mouth twitched. "And yet here you are."
"Are you teasing me because of that? I am in pain because of you. Your dick has mind of its own, right?"
"Maybe,"
"Do you understand sarcasm, Elaine?"
I frowned, but she had already moved to kneel beside the tub. She dipped her fingers into the water, testing it with deliberate care, then adjusted the temperature slightly before reaching for a folded cloth.
"You really don’t have to do this," I said, though the words came out quieter than I intended.
Elaine glanced up at me. Her face was calm, but her eyes weren’t distant. "I know, but I will do it."
"Then why are you...?"
She wrung the cloth slowly, watching the water drip from the fabric back into the bath. "Because I want to."
That made me go still.
Something in her tone, steady and unadorned, made it impossible to dismiss as a joke. She looked up at me again, and the expression in her eyes had softened in a way that was almost worse than teasing.
"Alexander," she said, quieter now, "you’re hurt. Let me make this easier for you."
I looked aside, suddenly aware of the heat in my face. "You say things like that too calmly."
"Would you prefer I be dramatic?"
"No."
"Then don’t complain."
A weak sound escaped me, half scoff and half laugh, though I would never admit which. Elaine guided me carefully toward the bath, one hand supporting me at the waist while the other steadied my shoulder. The moment I sank into the water, warm relief wrapped around me and loosened a little of the ache I’d been carrying since waking.
I closed my eyes for just a second before I could stop myself.
Elaine noticed. Of course she noticed.
"Better?" she asked.
"...Yes."
"Good."
She stayed beside the tub, sleeves pushed back slightly, watching me with a quiet focus that felt almost more intimate than touch. Then she lifted the cloth again and began to wash my shoulder with slow, careful strokes.
I inhaled sharply at the first touch. "You’re being unusually gentle for a person who fucked me without any thought."
"I was gentle with you."
"No, you weren’t!"
"I can stop."
"No," I said immediately, then grimaced at how fast that came out.
Elaine’s gaze flicked to mine, and the faintest smile touched her mouth. "I thought so."
I snarled, "You are toying with me." She is toying with me! Knowing that I am feeling really sensitive today, she is taking advantage of me. Worst! She is really the worst!
I glared at her, but it was a weak glare at best, especially since I was sitting in her bath while she looked at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered. The steam curled between us, softening the edges of the chamber, and the only sounds were water shifting, cloth brushing skin, and the quiet rhythm of her breathing.
Her hand moved lower, washing along my arm with deliberate care before returning to my shoulder again. It wasn’t rushed. Nothing she did felt rushed. That was what made it worse somehow—or better. I wasn’t sure which.
The silence stretched for a while, but it didn’t feel empty. It felt charged, warm, and strangely protective, as if the room had closed around us and shut the rest of the world out.
At last Elaine said, "You’ve been holding your breath."
I blinked. "I have not."
"You have."
I looked away. "Maybe I forgot."
Elaine’s voice dropped a little. "You don’t have to be tense here."
That was the problem. I didn’t know how to stop being tense when she was looking at me like that, when her hands were careful and her voice was quiet and the whole world seemed to have narrowed down to steam and water and the steady presence of her beside me.
She reached for the cloth again and drew it lightly across my collarbone, then paused as if asking permission without words. I gave the smallest nod, and she continued with the same slow, measured gentleness.
"You’re doing that thing again," I muttered.
"What thing?"
"Making it impossible to be angry."
Her hand stilled for a second. "Good."
I opened my mouth to protest, but she lifted her eyes to mine, and the words caught. Then she rinsed the cloth, brushed a damp strand of hair away from my face, and tucked it behind my ear with a tenderness that made my throat tighten unexpectedly.
"Does anything still hurt badly?"
I hesitated, then answered honestly. "Only when I move too much."
Elaine nodded once, as if she’d expected that. "Then don’t move too much."
"That sounds less like advice and more like an order."
"It can be both."
I gave a tired, reluctant sigh and let myself sink a little deeper into the water. The warmth helped more than I wanted to admit. My shoulders loosened, my breathing slowed, and the ache in my body dulled from sharp to manageable.
Elaine watched me for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer now. "You look better."
I snorted faintly. "That is not difficult."
"It matters."
That made me look at her.
She wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t smug. She was simply there, steady and attentive, as though my comfort was something she had decided to take seriously. It unsettled me more than I cared to admit, because I didn’t know what to do with that kind of attention when it wasn’t sharp-edged or demanding.
After a moment, she set the cloth aside and rested her hand on the edge of the tub. "If you want, I can leave."
I stared at her. "And if I don’t want that?"
Then her expression changed, just slightly. "Then I’ll stay."
The answer was immediate. Certain. No hesitation, no games.
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Elaine’s fingers brushed the surface of the water once, then she looked back at me with that same composed, unreadable face. "You’re still looking at me like you’re trying to decide whether to trust me."
I turned my head away. "Maybe I am."
"Fair."
That single word, so quiet and simple, eased something in my chest that I hadn’t realized was tight. The steam curled around us, and for a moment the room felt suspended in a fragile stillness.
Then Elaine reached for the towel waiting nearby and folded it over her arm. "When you’re ready, I’ll help you out."
I glanced at her, suspicious as ever. "Help me? Or carry me again?"
Her mouth curved faintly. "Both, if necessary."
I shut my eyes and muttered, "You’re impossible."
