Zayn was still trying to process the fact that his shirt was somewhere under Elisse's bed when she took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom in her room.
She didn't say a word. She didn't have to.
The look she gave him — half teasing, half determined — said it all.
He followed like a very willing man.
The bathroom was warm, lit by soft golden magic lamps along the corners.
A small tub sat in the middle, already filled halfway with warm, steaming water, courtesy of enchanted rune plumbing or whatever beautiful ancient civilization had blessed this house with indoor hygiene.
Elisse closed the door behind them with a quiet click and locked it.
Zayn stood there like a mildly stunned statue. "So… we're doing this, huh?"
She turned to him, already slipping off her boots.
"We're washing off the sweat," she said, her tone casual. Too casual.
Zayn squinted. "Together?"
Elisse raised an eyebrow. "You complaining?"
