Chapter 49: Chapter 49
The walk to Christian’s suite felt like miles even though it was probably thirty seconds.
My legs were shaking. Whether from exhaustion, adrenaline, or the way Christian kept looking at me like he wanted to devour me whole—honestly, it could’ve been any of those.
"I can walk," I protested when Christian scooped me up at his door.
"I know you can." His voice was rough. "Doesn’t mean you should."
He carried me over the threshold, and the symbolism wasn’t lost on me. This was it. The point of no return.
Not that I wanted to return to anything.
Christian kicked open the door to his suite and carried me through like I weighed nothing. Which, considering I’d just fought two challenges in one day, was probably accurate. I felt like a rag doll.
"Christian—"
"Don’t." He set me down carefully in his bed, his hands cupping my face with a gentleness that contradicted the tension in his jaw. "Don’t tell me you’re fine. Don’t tell me you don’t need this. I watched Vanessa land hit after hit and couldn’t do anything."
His thumbs brushed my cheekbones. His eyes were still partially amber.
"I wanted to rip her apart," he whispered. "My wolf was screaming to protect you, and I had to just stand there."
"But I won."
"You did." His smile was strained. "You were incredible. Brilliant. And I’m going to spend the rest of the night making sure you know exactly how I feel about that."
Heat pooled low in my stomach despite the exhaustion.
"Sophie." He cupped my face with both hands. "I’ve wanted you since I first caught your scent at the border. When Vanessa challenged you, when I thought I might lose you before I ever really had you—"
I cut him off with a kiss.
When we broke apart, he was breathing hard. "Your injuries—"
"Will heal faster in hot water with those fancy werewolf salts you guys love so much."
A slow smile spread across his face. "Is that so?"
He led me to his bathroom—and holy shit. Sunken tub carved from dark stone, rainfall shower big enough for four people, and windows.
He started the water, dumping in salts that smelled like the forest after rain.
I watched his shoulders flex as he tested the water temperature. Even now, trying to take care of me, he moved with that predatory grace that made my wolf sit up and take notice.
"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to get undressed?"
My cheeks heated. "I was just—"
"Appreciating the view?" He turned, smirking. "Because I’m about to return the favor."
He walked to me in two strides.
His fingers found the hem of my shirt. "Can I?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
His fingers found the hem of my shirt—the fighting clothes I’d thrown on hours ago that now felt like they’d been through a war.
Which, I guess, they had.
Christian lifted the shirt slowly, carefully, watching my face for any sign of pain. When he pulled it over my head, his expression darkened.
"Jesus, Sophie."
I looked down. Right. The bruises. Vanessa had done a number on my ribs and shoulders. Purple and blue marks were already blooming across my skin.
A low growl rumbled from Christian’s chest. His eyes flashed amber as he traced one particularly nasty bruise on my side with gentle fingers.
"Hey." I touched his face. "I’m fine."
"You shouldn’t have had to fight at all." His fingers traced the bruises with heartbreaking gentleness. "I’m sorry."
"Not your fault."
"Feel like it is."
I started unbuttoning his shirt, my hands shaking. Christian watched me with an intensity that made my stomach flip.
When I pushed the fabric off his shoulders, I noticed his heart was racing just as fast as mine.
Good. Nice to know I wasn’t the only one freaking out.
He stepped into the tub first, then helped me in. I settled between his legs, my back against his chest, and—
"Ow, hot, hot, hot—"
"It’ll pass." Christian’s arms wrapped around my waist. "Give it a second."
He was right. The initial sting faded, and then... oh. Oh. The ache in my muscles started melting away. Even my cracked ribs felt better.
Christian pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "Better?"
"Mmm."
He reached for a cloth and soap that probably cost more than my rent used to. Then he started washing me.
And I don’t mean like a quick scrub. I mean washing me. Every inch. Carefully cleaning the dried blood from my split lip. Working the arena dust out of my hair. Gentle fingers on every bruise and scrape.
It was intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with care.
Also, I could feel exactly how much he wanted me pressing against my lower back, so there was that.
"My turn." I turned in the water, settling my legs on either side of his hips.
