Elizabeth’s head turned just enough for one pink iris to glare at him. Her cheeks were flushed deep, the colour bleeding down her neck and across her collarbones. "Oh. Ugh. Thank you. For the... the cleaning up thing. I can..."

She pushed herself up on shaking arms. Got about two inches off the mattress before her elbows buckled and she collapsed back down with a soft grunt.

All her energy was gone, spent.

Liam’s mouth twitched. Just barely.

He slid off the bed, scooped her up with one arm under her knees, one behind her back and lifted her like she weighed nothing. Which, relative to his stats, she basically didn’t. Her skin was hot against his chest, slick with sweat, and she smelled like jasmine shampoo and him. The combination did unreasonable things to his focus.

"Liam, put me down."

"No."

"I can walk."

"You literally just fell."

"That was a strategic rest."

He carried her into the bathroom. The tub was oversized, one of those deep stone basins. He set her on the edge, keeping one hand on her hip to steady her while he turned the tap. Hot water poured in, steam curling up between them.

Elizabeth’s ears flattened. Not from anger. From the way his thumb was tracing a slow circle on her hipbone without him realising it.

He realised it when she inhaled sharply.

He didn’t stop.

The tub filled. He lifted her again gently, carefully, like lowering a pot into a heating element and set her down into the water. She hissed at the heat, then melted into it, her shoulders dropping, her head tipping back against the rim.

Liam knelt beside the tub and grabbed the sponge.

"Liam, stop. I can do it myself."

He dipped the sponge, squeezed it, and smoothed it across her collarbone, slow. Methodical. The suds trailed down her chest in thin white lines.

"Let me do it." His thumb pressed the sponge lower, over the swell of her breast, tracing the curve with the same focus he used when seasoning a cast iron. "It’s the least I can do. And we need to take great care of these ingredients."

Elizabeth’s entire face went nuclear.

"Did you just call my boobs ingredients?"

"Premium ones."

"I’m going to kill you."

"You can’t stand up."

Elizabeth splashed water at him.

"I can do it myself," she repeated, quieter now. Her fingers curled around the edge of the tub. "Go away and make food or... or..."

The sponge traced the inside of her thigh. Her sentence died.

Liam looked at her. Really looked. The flush covering her chest. The way her ears were pinned flat and trembling. The bite mark he’d left on her shoulder was already purpling.

His.

"Alright, alright." He set the sponge on the rim. Stood up. Let his knuckles drag once across her jaw—light, brief, a gesture that meant more than he’d admit.

Liam turned toward the door. Paused. Looked back through the gap.

Elizabeth was watching him. Pink and flustered and trying to look annoyed about it. Failing completely.

Then he grabbed pants from the floor and pulled them on, padding barefoot toward the kitchen. His tail swayed behind him, loose and content.

Man, Liam didn’t know he could do that. Any of it. The instinct had just taken over. Like the wolf in him already knew every place to touch, every rhythm to hold, every sound to chase. His body had moved before his brain caught up.

Liam needed to understand what exactly Hestia had given him.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly, focusing his thoughts.

"Hi Hestia," he murmured, voice low enough that Elizabeth couldn’t hear from the bathroom. "Whatever you did to me, love it 10/10 that was great." He paused, considering.

"No, you can’t watch next time." Liam’s ears twitched at the thought. "But these recipes, wow, I don’t even know what type of food they are. What type of food are they? Also, what do you want?"

For a moment, nothing happened, then...

"LIAM, I MISSED YOU! Why is the bed a mess? WHY IS THE BED A MESS, DEAR BUTCHER? WHY IS THERE SOME BLOOD THERE? MR WOLF!!! I’M SO PROUD AND SO UPSET I COULDN’T WATCH."

Liam blinked. Hestia was a little gold ball of light shaking and pulsing next to him with what he could only describe as divine indignation.

"It was... intense," he replied quietly, "and private."

"PRIVATE? I CREATED THE RECIPE! I DESERVE A TASTE TEST!"

Liam rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his tail swish behind him in mild embarrassment. "It’s not that kind of recipe."

"IT’S EXACTLY THAT KIND OF RECIPE! I’M A GODDESS OF FEASTS AND FERTILITY!"

Liam glanced toward the bathroom door. Steam was still escaping from under it. Elizabeth was probably still soaking, maybe even dozing off. He turned back to the HUD.

"So these recipes... they’re not for actual food, are they?"

"They’re recipes for life, dear Butcher, for connection and for power. The ’Bloodline Anchor’ is rare, only granted when both participants are truly compatible. You should feel honoured."

Liam considered this. "What’s the cost?"

"COST?" The text flashed crimson again. "I’M NOT SOME SHADY DEALER! I’m an artist! A creator! This is my magnum opus!"

"So you don’t want anything?"

The text faded to a contemplative purple:

"I want what all creators want. To see my creation thrive. To watch it grow. To witness the beauty it produces."

Liam frowned. "That sounds suspiciously like you want to watch."

"PERHAPS A LITTLE."

"No."

"FINE." The text shifted to a pouting teal. "But I expect regular updates! And you MUST use the ’Primal Echo’ in combat. I want to see what happens when your ’claim’ manifests through her blade."

[TOOL TIP: THE DIVINE PRIVACY FILTER]

Status: Main Feed Censored / Hestia is Currently Throwing a Tantrum.

The "Hestia" Paradox: While the Goddess of the Hearth wants to watch with the intensity of a thousand suns, the [Privacy Protocol: Sovereign’s Bedroom] has kicked in. She can’t see the "Full-Volume Finish," but she can see the [HUD Data].

Tactical Salt: Hestia is currently staring at a "Content Blocked" screen, but her notifications are blowing up with the stats of Liam’s performance. She’s essentially reading the nutrition label of a five-star meal she isn’t allowed to taste.

Divine Compensation: Because she can’t watch, she’s overcompensating by generating [Gold-Bordered Recipes]. It’s her way of begging for a "detailed review" since she missed the live show.