CHAPTER 153: DIFFERENT DYNAMICS

Aelin

The warmth of the water curled around me, rising in soft steam as I sank deeper into the private bath carved into smooth obsidian. Moonlight poured in through the high arched windows, casting silver shadows across the pale surface.

I’d expected awkwardness.

After all, I was in the bath. With Draegon.

But he... he looked like he belonged in this place—leaned back against the curved edge of the pool, hair damp and glistening down his back, the strong lines of his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. Like this was the most natural thing in the world.

For him, maybe it was.

For me?

My skin was burning, and not from the heat of the water.

We’d both gotten massages after all. After he had made sure I knew what I was doing with the massage, the incubi offered one to Draegon too saying that even though it was booked for one person, I wasn’t given one, so mine can be given to Draegon.

He just nodded and disappeared, and when he returned, there was a slightly glazed, relaxed look on his face that I hadn’t seen before.

He’d actually... enjoyed it.

I was happy though. I enjoyed it too.

Now, here we were. Sharing a bath because it was recommended after the massage to soak in hot water.

I kept to my end of the bath. Far enough that even the soft ripples from him didn’t quite reach me. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Or my thoughts. Or my heart, which insisted on beating too fast.

Draegon’s voice broke the silence, low and thoughtful. "That wasn’t bad."

I looked up.

"The massage," he clarified, eyes half-lidded. "It was... good. I see why people keep going back for it."

I laughed softly, mostly out of nervousness. "You sound surprised."

"I am," he admitted. Then a pause. "We should do it more often."

I tried not to gape. "Together?"

He cracked an eye open and gave me that amused look I was starting to recognize too well. "Is there a reason we shouldn’t?"

Yes, I wanted to say. Because being near you is like standing on the edge of a cliff, heart pounding, waiting to either fall or fly.

But instead, I shrugged and tried to mimic his calm. "No reason."

He tilted his head. And then I saw it.

The way his gaze shifted subtly, from casual amusement to something else. Something closer to quiet curiosity.

"You’re sitting too far," he said, voice softer now.

I blinked. "What?"

He extended a hand toward me, open and easy. "Come closer."

***

Ariston

My throat tightened. I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Instead, I turned, marched to the window, and shoved it open.

Cool air rushed in. Night had fallen, stars scattering across the dark velvet sky, mocking me with their calm.

Without another word, I climbed onto the ledge.

Behind me, I felt Drakkar watching. Waiting. But I didn’t look back.

I jumped.

I landed hard, knees bending to take the weight, the wind slapping my face as I straightened.

"Good," I muttered to myself, glancing up at the massage room’s window one last time. "At least my room’s not far."

I took off running—boots pounding silently across the stone walkway, weaving through shadowed garden paths, slipping between columns like a ghost. The guards were patrolling the area like usual but I was fast and I had the layout memorized by now.

Heart hammering, I reached my quarters and climbed up the trellis like I’d done a hundred times during my lifetime.

I slipped in through the open window, landing silently on the floor.

No one saw me.

I shut the window tight, drew the curtains, then stormed to the washroom. My fingers shook as I yanked my shirt over my head and kicked off my pants like they were aflame. The fabric clung to my skin, the heat rising like waves off me.

I took off my underwear and paused midway

I gulped, then looked down

It was wet. I pursed my lips as I looked at it. My thighs were soaked and I felt so ashamed of myself.

Shit!

Shit!!!

I threw it off and ran in

I didn’t even wait for the water to warm. I just twisted the knobs all the way and stepped under the freezing spray.

The shock hit instantly.

Cold needles stabbed down my back, soaked my hair, trying to drench the fire out of my skin. I dropped to the tiled floor and pulled my knees in, letting the icy water pour over me, head bowed.

I needed to cool down. I needed to think.

But all I could feel was the ghost of his hands, the sound of his voice echoing in my skull, and the unbearable heat that not even cold water could fully extinguish.

The water hit my skin like a tease—cool but useless against the heat building inside me.

My shaft twitched against my thigh, and my lower lips clenched, slick and impatient. I clenched my jaw, tried to focus on other things—fields of lavender, the smell of fresh bread, anything to slow my pulse.

I tried to imagine myself walking in the fields. It’s a sunny day, the sunflowers are blooming, lining the place with beauty

But then Drakkar’s face flashed behind my eyelids.

!!!

His sharp grin, the way his golden eyes darkened when he pinned me down. The memory of his hands—rough from battle but so careful when they touched me—sent a shiver down my spine.

My breath hitched.

NO!

***

Aelin

The words were simple.

But something about the way he said them made my breath catch. The water rippled gently between us. The flicker of firelight on his wet skin, the trust in his eyes—it all melted something in me.

For a second, I hesitated.

And then, slowly, I moved.

Each small shift through the water closed the space between us, until the warmth of him reached me—not just the heat of the bath, but his presence. Solid and quiet and grounding.

I placed my hand in his outstretched one.

And Draegon pulled me gently forward, just enough so that my shoulder brushed his.

Neither of us said anything.

There was no need.

Not in this stillness, in this quiet kind of closeness.

I could feel his heartbeat. I wondered if he could feel mine.

And in that moment, the noise in my mind faded.

Here, like this... I could just exist. With him.

And that, somehow, felt more intimate than anything else in the world.

The water lapped softly around us, sloshing gently with each quiet movement. Draegon leaned back against the edge, head tilted slightly toward the moonlight spilling across the surface. His hand still brushed against mine—warm, solid, real.

That’s when I noticed it.

The scars.

They weren’t fresh, but they were clear. Some thin like lashes, others jagged and deep, etched across his skin like a brutal map of battles fought. I’d seen him shirtless before—more than once—but this was the first time I truly looked.

His back bore the worst of them and I realized I had never seen his back properly.

Faint ridges of old wounds cut across the broad span of his shoulders and down his spine. Some looked like poison cuts. Others like blades. A few, I couldn’t even guess.

I stared, frozen, breath quiet in my throat. They weren’t ugly. No. Just unexpected. Stark reminders that beneath his strength and stillness, Draegon had endured more than I could begin to imagine.

"You’re staring," he said, voice quiet and even. But not accusing.

I blinked, caught. "I’m sorry. I just... I didn’t notice them before."

He glanced over his shoulder, brow slightly furrowed. "My scars?"

I nodded and then I wondered if it was okay to ask how he felt about them.

"Something on your mind?" He could tell, "Ask," He said gently. And I knew it was his gentleness that had pulled out the confidence in me.

"Do you—" I hesitated, the words heavier than I expected. "Do you ever wish they weren’t there?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lifted one arm, looking at a particularly deep scar that slashed across his bicep. His fingers brushed over it slowly.

"No," he said simply. "Why would I?"

My lips parted. "I mean... I don’t know. They’re reminders, aren’t they? Of pain?"

Draegon turned to face me more fully now, the steam rising in soft clouds between us. His violet eyes met mine, clear and unwavering.

"They’re proof," he said. "That I survived. That I fought—and won. Scars aren’t something to be ashamed of.. They’re earned. They tell a story."

!!!

His words struck something deep inside me—sharp and sudden.

I looked down into the water, heart twisting.

What story do I have to tell?

I’d been hurt too. Bullied. Beaten. Silenced.

I recalled my time in my homeland. In the palace I grew up in.

But every time, someone would come along to heal me. To fix the bruises, erase the welts. To hide the evidence. To make it look like I was never broken.

I had no scars.

I looked at my skin

No proof that I’d endured.

No proof that I’d crawled out of the darkness on my own.

My throat tightened unexpectedly. I gave him a small smile, one I wasn’t sure reached my eyes. "That’s... a good way to look at it."

Draegon didn’t press me, though his gaze lingered on my face for a beat longer. As if he knew. As if somehow, he could see the shadows behind my smile.

But he didn’t force them into the light.

He just reached over again, fingers brushing gently against mine under the water.

"You alright?" He asked