Demyan’s POV
Her body was limp in my arms, trembling with exhaustion, her lashes heavy with the weight of all I had wrung from her. She could barely keep her eyes open as I pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. Her skin smelled of the bathhouse steam, of her sweetness, of mine.
Carefully, I dressed her, sliding the silken layers over her flushed skin, fastening each tie and ribbon as though I were sealing a treasure. She made a soft sound of protest when I pulled the sash tight, and I hushed her, whispering against her temple, “Rest, my darling. I’ll take care of everything.”
When I gathered her into my arms, she fit against me as though she had always belonged there, her cheek pressed to my chest, her breathing shallow and steady. I walked out into the cool night, the weight of her slig
