"Yes... wow, yeah, right there," Cherion groaned, practically melting forward as Zarius’s large thumb pressed against the perfect spot at the base of his head. "Don’t you dare stop. I mean it."

The washroom was small, hazy with thick steam that clung to the dark cedar walls like the room itself was trying to eavesdrop on them.

The warm water was still steaming around them, a comfort that worked its way into Cherion’s muscles, easing the deep, heavy ache of being "remade" the night before. He let out a long, shaky breath, his head falling back to rest against Zarius’s shoulder.

"Stay still," Zarius rumbled.

It vibrated straight through Cherion’s spine while Zarius’s hands moved through his hair.

Cherion closed his eyes. "You’re suspiciously good at this," he mumbled, half-asleep already. "What, did they make you take royal shampoo training classes or something?"

Zarius let out a huff that might have been a laugh. "I’ve never done this for anyone else, Cherion. Don’t get used to it."

"Oh, I think I’m already used to it," Cherion teased, tilting his head back further to look up at the Duke. From this angle, Zarius looked even more unfairly intimidating, the steam curling around him while his red eyes glowed through it like a warning sign Cherion was absolutely going to ignore. "I’m a very high-maintenance Consort, you know. I expect the full treatment at least once a week."

Zarius didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned down, capturing Cherion’s lips in a wet, soap-scented kiss. The kind of kiss that immediately turned Cherion’s thoughts into warm mashed potatoes.

Eventually, they pulled apart just enough to breathe, their foreheads resting against each other. Cherion felt incredibly safe, incredibly warm, and more "at home" than he ever had in his own world. He knew he couldn’t leave. Even if he wanted to, the bond was like a physical rope tying his soul to the man holding him.

But, because he was Cherion, he decided to poke the bear.

"So," Cherion started. He traced a line through the bubbles on the surface of the water. "I suppose we should talk about the next steps. Remember the contract?"

Instantly, the hands on his head went stiff. Every ounce of playful warmth vanished from the tub.

"The contract," Zarius repeated.

"Yeah," Cherion continued, hiding his smirk. "The one where you pay me a mountain of gold and prep a carriage to take me far, far away to live a quiet, normal life. I was thinking..."

Suddenly, Zarius’s hand was under Cherion’s chin. With a firm but careful grip, he guided Cherion to turn around in the water until they were chest-to-chest, forcing him to look up. The Duke looked genuinely distressed. The Duke looked genuinely distressed.

"There is no carriage, Cherion," Zarius ground out, his grip firm. "There is no ’far away.’ There is no ’normal life’ for you that doesn’t involve me."

"But the contract..."

"I will burn it," Zarius interrupted. He crowded into Cherion’s space, his large frame looming over him in the small tub. "I will turn that contract to ash with my own hands. I’ll hunt down every copy and burn the ink off the pages before I ever let you use it to walk away from me."

Cherion’s breath hitched. He had expected a reaction, but the sheer desperation in Zarius’s eyes was overwhelming. The Duke looked genuinely panicked at the mere mention of Cherion leaving.

"Zarius, I was just..."

"You belong to me," Zarius whispered, his face inches from Cherion’s. "The bond’s done. Permanent. So if you think I’m letting you walk away over some paperwork and signatures, you’ve seriously misunderstood me."

Cherion looked at him and saw the vulnerability hidden behind the Alpha’s rage.

"Okay," Cherion whispered. He shifted in the cramped space, his knees bumping against Zarius’s as he turned around in the water to face him properly. He reached up with wet hands to cup the Duke’s face, forcing those glowing red eyes to stay locked on his. "Okay. Burn it then."

The relief that flooded Zarius’s face was so intense it was almost painful. He let out a long, shuddering breath and pulled Cherion into a kiss that was a thousand times more honest than any piece of paper. It was desperate, relieved, and starving.

When the kiss finally broke, Zarius didn’t let him go. He kept his forehead pressed against Cherion’s, his breath hitching in the humid air.

"Forget about that contract, Cherion," Zarius said. "Every line, every signature. Forget it ever existed."

"Of course, you big wolf," Cherion murmured, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Consider it forgotten. You’re stuck with me and my high maintenance forever."

Before Zarius could respond, Cherion leaned in, wrapping his arms around the Duke’s neck and pulling him back down into a deep, silencing kiss.

As they melted into each other, the water sloshing over the sides of the tub, Cherion felt the shift.

Under the water, the contact between them became undeniable. The relief of the "contract" talk had clearly triggered something deeper in the Duke. Cherion’s eyes blew wide mid-kiss as he felt Zarius’s length growing, thickening, and pulsing against his thigh with a renewed, heavy insistence. It was getting huge, fast.

Zarius groaned against his lips, his hand sliding down under the water to grip Cherion’s hip, anchoring him firmly against the rising, hard reality of his hunger.

Cherion’s breath hitched as he felt the sheer scale of the situation developing beneath the bubbles. It wasn’t just a slight reaction, it was a heavy, insistent heat that made the warm water feel almost cool by comparison.

"Oh," Cherion squeaked, his eyes wide as he felt Zarius’s length pulse firmly against his thigh, thickening with every passing second. He leaned back just an inch, looking into those glowing red eyes with a mix of shock and that signature chaotic amusement. "Oh, are you...?"

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. The way the water was churning and the grip on his hip was tightening spoke loud enough for both of them.

Zarius didn’t offer a reply. Instead, he let out a low, tortured groan that sounded more like a growl, burying his face into the crook of Cherion’s neck. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, kissing him again without even trying.

Cherion let out a shaky, melodic chuckle, his hands sliding from Zarius’s face to grip the Alpha’s shoulders for stability. He felt a familiar, honey-like warmth pooling in his own gut, his pulse thrumming in sync with the heavy rhythm he felt against his leg.

"Yeah," Cherion whispered, his voice dropping into something husky and uncharacteristically soft as he arched his back, pressing himself closer to the heat. "I think I’m starting to, too."

He tilted his head, giving Zarius better access, his inner monologue screaming that he was a total goner. "I guess we’re not getting to the drying-off part of the morning anytime soon, huh?"

"Good," Zarius let out a low sound against his lips before pulling back just enough to look at him properly, his breath still warm between them and his red eyes burning with hunger and something far too emotional to be casual about. "Because I wasn’t finished with you anyway."