I watched her in the mirror as she followed me in, and the sight made me forget how to breathe for half a second.

Her hair was a glorious disaster, sticking up at angles that should have been illegal. Her lips were swollen from being kissed too hard, bitten too much. My marks were already blooming on her neck and collarbone like some twisted garden I'd cultivated on her skin.

Each purple-red bruise a testament to how thoroughly I'd claimed her throughout the night. The remnants of sweat still glistened on her shoulders, catching the bathroom light in a way that made her look like she'd been dipped in gold.

She leaned against the counter, one hand braced on the marble as she tried to catch her breath. Her chest was still heaving. I could see the rapid flutter of her pulse in her throat, a hypnotic rhythm that matched my own racing heart. Her other hand absently touched one of the marks on her neck, pressing down as if to feel the ghost of my mouth still there.

"Haah… haah… I-I think I hate you a little bit." Her voice came out rough, wrecked. "I'm going to be walking funny for a week."

I turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until steam started billowing around us, filling the air with a humid warmth that clung to our skin. The sound of the shower drummed against the tile, creating a muffled cocoon that seemed to separate us from the rest of the house—from the rest of the world.

"You'll live. And you'll remember who did it to you with every step."

I stepped under the spray, letting the hot water sluice over the scratches on my back. They stung in the best possible way, little reminders of how hard she'd been clinging to me. The water turned slightly pink as it rinsed away the dried blood from where her nails had broken skin during our final climax. The pain was exquisite—a brand of ownership I hadn't expected to crave so much.

I turned and held out a hand to her, watching droplets cascade down my arm and drip from my fingertips.

"Well? Or are you going to stand there admiring the view all morning?"

She took my hand without hesitation. I pulled her back against my chest, her bare skin slick and warm. She sighed, this soft, contented sound that did stupid things to my heart rate. I was still hard, and there was no way she couldn't feel the full length of it pressing against the small of her back. The perfect curve of her ass nestled against me with an insane compatibility that made me wonder if the System had somehow tweaked my body specifically to fit with hers.

Her entire body went tense for a second, then she deliberately ground back against me, the movement slow and torturous, her hips rolling with a newfound confidence that hadn't been there when we first started.

Little menace.

"You know," she said, her voice breathy and doing that thing where it got all husky and wrecked, "I think I need to register that thing with the VHC. It's a weapon of mass destruction."

I couldn't help it. I laughed, the sound echoing off the tile walls, bouncing around us in the steamy enclosure. It felt strange to laugh so freely—a reminder of how much had changed between us in such a short time.

"Weapon of mass seduction, Princess." I nudged her with my hips, pushing just enough to make her gasp.

"Mmmmph..." She made this needy sound, grinding back harder, her hands reaching behind to grip my thighs, nails digging into the muscle there.

Fuck. We really didn't have time for another round. The ferry wouldn't wait, and first impressions at New Vein Academy weren't something I could afford to mess up—not with the grand scheme I had planned.

I grabbed the soap, working up a lather between my palms. My hands were big enough to completely cover hers when we held them together. Big enough to span her waist. Big enough to do a lot of things, actually, and right then I was going to use them to drive her absolutely insane. The soap smelled of sandalwood and something vaguely citrusy—expensive stuff that Natalia had bought, nothing like the generic crap I used to use.

Her skin felt like silk under the water. All smooth and soft and completely incongruous with the Ice Queen persona she showed the rest of the world. Hard to believe this was the same girl who used to look at me like I was something she scraped off her boot. The same girl who'd sneer if I dared to breathe in her direction just a few months ago. Now her head was lolling back against my shoulder, her eyes half-closed in bliss as my hands mapped her body.

My soapy hands slid around her waist, up her stomach. Her breath hitched when I cupped her breasts. They were heavy and perfect in my palms, and I washed them slowly. Deliberately. My thumbs circled her nipples until they were pebble-hard under my touch. I watched in the foggy glass of the shower door as they darkened to a dusky rose color, responding to me with an eagerness that sent a fresh wave of heat through my body.

"Hnnngh..."

That little whimper went straight to my dick. Every sound she made was like a direct line to my nervous system, triggering responses I couldn't control even if I wanted to.

I trailed kisses down her neck, finding the marks I'd left earlier. The water made her skin taste clean and faintly sweet, with an underlying flavor that was uniquely Natalia. "Need to make sure my queen is clean," I murmured against the curve where her neck met her shoulder. I bit down gently on the same spot I'd marked before, and felt her whole body tremble against me.

My hands drifted lower. Washing her stomach, her hips. The feminine curve of her waist that I was kind of obsessed with—the perfect hourglass shape that my hands fit around like they were designed specifically for that purpose. Then I slipped between her thighs, my fingers sliding through the short curls there.

She trembled. Parted her legs to grant me access without me even having to ask. Her head fell back against my shoulder, her wet hair plastering to my chest in purple rivers.

Good girl.

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