She didn’t remember walking.
She remembered his arm around her waist.
His steady pace.
The way her wet blouse clung to her skin, heavy and cold, but somehow less unbearable with him beside her.
Lucas didn’t speak.
He didn’t rush.
He didn’t let go.
They moved through the garden path, away from the fountain, away from the staff. Riven had cleared the way with quiet authority, and Mina—bless her—had stayed behind, managing the confusion with a mix of charm and distraction.
Elara kept her head down, face still buried against Lucas’s shoulder. Her fingers clutched his shirt, knuckles pale. She could feel the heat of his skin through the fabric, could feel the tension in his grip—protective, not possessive. Fierce, but gentle.
She was soaked.
Embarrassed.
Exposed.
But not alone.
They reached the side entrance of the resort, where a quiet hallway led toward the executive suites. Lucas paused, glanced around, then guided her toward a small alcove with cushioned benches and a towel rack—probably meant for spa guests.
He sat her down carefully, crouched in front of her, and grabbed a towel.
“Here,” he said softly.
She took it with trembling hands, trying to pat her arms dry without drawing attention to her collarbone.
Lucas didn’t look away.
“You’re still shaking.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
“You’re not.”
She looked up, eyes wide. “I—I didn’t mean for anyone to see.”
“They didn’t,” he said. “Not really.”
“Your father did.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened. “He saw what he needed to see.”
“And Riven?”
“He saw me holding you.”
She flushed. “That’s not nothing.”
Lucas leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“Do you want me to apologize?”
She blinked. “For what?”
“For grabbing you like that. For not asking.”
She hesitated.
Then shook her head.
“No. I—I didn’t want to be seen. And you… you made me feel invisible. In a good way.”
Lucas smiled—soft, crooked, real.
“You buried your face in me.”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
“You didn’t want to let go.”
“I still don’t.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
She covered her mouth, eyes wide. “I—I mean—”
Lucas reached out, gently tugging her hand away.
“I know what you meant.”
She looked down at the towel in her lap, fingers twisting the edge.
“You’re very calm.”
“I’m not.”
“You look like you are.”
“That’s because I’m with you.”
Her breath caught.
The seal pulsed faintly beneath her skin—warm, steady, alive.
Lucas didn’t touch it.
Didn’t name it.
Didn’t need to.
Because the seal had already answered.
And so had she.
A quiet beat passed between them.
The towel in her lap was damp now, her blouse still clinging to her skin. Her hair stuck to her cheeks, and the chill was starting to settle in.
She shifted slightly, voice barely above a whisper.
“I need to change.”
Lucas nodded, his tone gentle.
“There’s a guest room just down the hall. I’ll walk you there.”
She hesitated, fingers tightening around the towel.
“You don’t have to.”
He stood slowly, gaze steady but soft.
“I want to.”
She stood slowly, towel clutched to her chest, blouse sticking uncomfortably to her skin. Lucas didn’t look directly at her—his gaze stayed forward, respectful, steady.
They walked in silence.
The hallway was quiet, lined with soft lights and polished wood. Elara’s footsteps were damp, her sandals squeaking slightly with each step. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t let go.
But she didn’t.
Lucas stopped at the guest room door, opened it gently, and stepped aside.
“I’ll wait here.”
She nodded, cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”
Inside, the room was simple—neutral tones, soft lighting, a folded robe on the bed. She peeled off her wet blouse, dried her skin carefully, and slipped into the robe. It was warm, oversized, and smelled faintly of lavender.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
Her collarbone was bare.
Her seal visible.
Crimson-gold.
Still hers.
Still his.
She touched it gently, then opened the door.
Lucas was still there.
He looked up, eyes soft.
“Better?”
She nodded. “Much.”
He smiled. “You look less like a drowned kitten.”
She groaned. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not teasing. I’m admiring.”
She flushed. “You’re impossible.”
“Still allowed.”
She stepped closer, robe trailing behind her, hair damp but no longer dripping.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Lucas tilted his head. “For what?”
“For not letting me be seen.”
He reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
“You were seen,” he said. “By me.”
Her breath caught.
And for once, she didn’t look away.