Dr. Seleyena's Apartment
The bathroom was a cocoon of steam, thick and heavy, curling like a lover's breath against the tiles. The air carried the musky weight of jasmine soap, clinging to the walls, mingling with the faint tang of salt and skin.
Seleyena stood bare before the fogged mirror, her silhouette a ghostly curve in the mist—flushed, trembling, her body a canvas of secrets etched in shadow and heat.
Two nights ago, Cruxius had claimed her—her first, her only.
His hands, his mouth, had left her marked with bruises and raw bites that pulsed beneath her skin, stirring her gentle heart into a storm of wonder, shame, and a hungry ache she couldn't name.
Once a woman of quiet dignity, untouched until that night, she now faced a body that felt both hers and alien, each mark a riddle whispering questions she wasn't ready to answer.
