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"What did you say?"
He frowned, confused. "I—just meant—"
Hazel felt a shiver creep up her spine. Memories, fragments, something older than time itself pressed against the edges of her mind — a deja vu that made her knees feel weak. She stepped back and then gazed at him.
The brush of heat from the steam and the intensity in his eyes seemed to awaken echoes of herself she had never fully recognized.
"What's wrong?" He asked, concern etched on his face.
"I… I'm fine," she said, forcing a laugh that sounded lighter than it felt. Her voice carried a playful edge to mask the tremor in her chest. She dipped her head, letting her hair fall forward like a silver veil. "Just… enjoying the heat. It's… relaxing, isn't it?"
Hades took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "Relaxing?" His scoff was sharp, almost teasing, but it carried a low hum of possession beneath it. "Hazel, do you realize what you're doing to me?"
Her lips curved into another smile, light, but hiding the flutter of panic beneath. "Oh? And what is it that I'm doing, exactly?"
"You're being… completely unfair," he said, stepping closer until the warmth of his presence brushed her skin. "Denying me what is mine." His gaze swept over her, and the truth of his words — of the hunger in his voice — made her pulse race.
Her hair was wet, clinging to her delicate skin. The thin fabric of her undergarments stuck to her in ways that left nothing to imagination.
Hades' breathing was steady, but his hands twitched at his sides, restrained by a force she could feel radiating from him. Every ounce of his control strained against the desire simmering beneath the surface.
Hazel's breath caught, a subtle blush rising along her cheeks. She dipped her head, hiding her shaking hands behind her back, forcing herself to meet his gaze with humor rather than panic. "You really think that's fair, too?" she asked lightly. "I mean, denying me a bath in peace? That's quite cruel, isn't it?"
Hades let out a low growl that vibrated through the space between them. "No," he said softly, almost a whisper, "this isn't fair at all. Seeing you like this… it's torture."
Hazel's lips curved into a soft, teasing smile. "Then maybe you need to control yourself a little better."
The tension cracked only slightly. Hades inhaled slowly, dragging in the warm, herb-scented air around them. His hands itched to reach out, to brush a strand of wet hair from her face, to cradle her in his arms. But he restrained himself, knowing — painfully knowing — that she was not ready, that this moment could not be seized in its entirety.
Instead, he settled for stepping close, so close that the heat radiating off his body brushed against hers. His thumb brushed along her jawline, tracing the line delicately.
Hazel closed her eyes for the briefest second, letting the contact ground her in reality. It was a tender, intimate gesture that held a promise of what could come later, and yet, it held nothing but restraint for now.
"You're playing with fire, my queen," Hades whispered. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"
Hazel tilted her head, allowing herself a moment of genuine softness. "Maybe," she admitted, her voice husky. "But I trust you'll survive it, won't you?"
Hades' lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. "Barely," he murmured, leaning in close enough that the heat from his mouth brushed hers. She could feel the intensity, the unspoken passion, the weight of centuries pressed between them.
For a long moment, silence held them together, hearts beating in tandem, a fragile rhythm amid the chaos beyond the walls. Eventually, Hazel broke the tension with a laugh — light, melodic — and it snapped both of them back to the present. She stepped back, letting her playful demeanor cloak the storm of sensations beneath.
"It just occurred to me, we're bathing together," She smiled.
"I'd like to do something more than just bath," He teased.
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Meanwhile, the road to the Rune Coven held a different kind of chaos. Miriam and Stefan moved with a quiet efficiency, the forest stretching endlessly before them. The dawn cast a crimson streaks across the twisted undergrowth, painting the leaves with spectral light. Every shadow seemed alive, every rustle hinting at unseen danger.
Their conversation had started light. Miriam teased Stefan about his seriousness, about how his perfectionism sometimes made even demons appear human. Stefan responded with deadpan humor, his lips twitching into a smile he rarely allowed himself. But the levity shattered abruptly when the first screech tore through the forest — deep, guttural, inhuman.
Orcs. Massive, snarling, with blackened tusks and eyes like molten gold, emerged from the underbrush. They moved in coordinated waves, more than Stefan had anticipated. One of them charged at Miriam, claws extended.
Stefan reacted instantly, stepping in front of her. His sword flashed through the darkness, catching the moonlight and slicing clean through the first orc's chest. The creature collapsed with a wet, sickening thud, green and disgusting blood flashing.
"Stay close," he said sharply, scanning the remaining shadows. Miriam nodded, gripping her staff tighter, her eyes wide but steady.
The orcs pressed forward in a relentless tide. Stefan's movements became a blur — a deadly dance of demonic precision. His claws extended, and his demonic aura flared, threads of shadow whipping around him like living weapons. Orc after orc fell beneath his hands. Their green blood spattered across his face, his skin.
One particularly massive orc lunged at Miriam, teeth bared. Stefan intercepted, slamming his body against the creature twice his size with a force that shook the ground. A howl of pain split the dawn as he drove his blade through its chest, the orc's blood staining his tunic.
Miriam flinched, but her eyes remained on him, admiration mixing with fear.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, breathless, as Stefan wiped the blood from his blade with the back of his hand.
"Nothing I can't handle," he replied, though a faint ache pulsed in his side from a glancing strike. His wound was already knitting, demonic regeneration coursing through him.
Another orc charged from the shadows, forcing Stefan to pivot and strike with a spin that cleaved the beast in two.
But the battle came at a cost. One of their horses, Miriam's, was slain beneath the claws of a particularly large orc. Supplies scattered, breaking upon the forest floor. Miriam's hands trembled as she realized what had been lost, but Stefan's grip on her shoulder was steady.
"Are you okay, you've seen first-hand how dangerous this journey is, it's not too late to turn back." he asked again, his dark eyes searching hers for the faintest sign of doubt.
She shook her head, firm. "I'm fine. I want to keep going. To get to Queen Hazel."
Stefan's gaze softened, though the tension never left him. "You're sure?" he asked, and her determined nod answered for her.
They cleaned the disgusting blood from their bodies as best as they could, making use of a small stream that wound through the forest. Miriam's hands moved carefully over Stefan's face, wiping away the streaks of slimy green blood. Stefan's eyes softened as he watched her. The night, the danger, the blood — it all faded momentarily in the warmth of that simple gesture.
"You haven't changed your mind?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"No," Miriam said firmly. "We're going to Queen Hazel. Nothing else matters."
The day stretched on, the forest seeming endless and the rustle of unseen creatures pressed against their nerves. Each step forward was a battle in itself, but with Stefan's demonic prowess and Miriam's determination, they carved a path through the dangers that rose against them.
The memory of the slain orcs, the blood staining his skin, and the collapse of her horse weighed on them, but neither hesitated. The goal was clear, and the bond forged in battle between them was stronger than the fear surrounding them.
As they moved deeper into the forest, the wind whispered through the trees like a warning, the scent of damp earth and blood mingling with the faint metallic tang of danger.
Stefan glanced at Miriam again, her resolve unwavering despite the horrors they had faced. And in that moment, amidst the chaos and the night, a fragile thread of trust and care wound itself between them — one that would carry them forward, step by step, toward the Rune Coven, oblivious to the true depths of the war that was already closing in.