Hot steam quickly filled the small bathroom, fogging the mirror and dripping down the stone walls. The air felt heavy, stifling, as if it wanted to envelop her completely. Ester dipped the sponge in the steaming water and ran it over her neck, sliding it down to her stiff shoulders. The tension built up since the forest, since the fight on the road, began to dissolve under the heat.

For a moment, she closed her eyes and simply breathed. The warmth of the water against her skin was a balm. There, surrounded by steam, it was as if she could let her guard down.

But a moment of distraction was all it took for her mind to betray her.

Images came rushing back, like blades slicing through her consciousness: Damon, his body pressed against hers that night, his hot breath against her mouth, the voracious kisses that had taken her breath away. The sharp shiver when he bit her ear, his strong arms enveloping her, as if escape were impossible.

The sponge slipped from her fingers, falling back into the water with a muffled sound.

Ester's eyes widened, her heart racing. The heat in the tub felt different now—not just the water, but something welling up from deep within her. Her body burned in response to the memories, each scene etched like fire on her skin.

She remembered the way he'd wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her close. The way his husky laugh vibrated against her neck, as if he were enjoying teasing her to the brink of madness.

And now, alone, the mere echo of those memories was enough to make her involuntarily clench her thighs, trying to contain the wave of heat spreading within her.

"Tsk…" she growled softly, shaking her head as if trying to banish an unwanted thought. She raised her wet hands and lightly slapped her face. "Ridiculous."

But the steam surrounded her like an accomplice. The more she tried to breathe deeply, the more she felt like she was suffocating, as if the room were overflowing with that forbidden memory. The heat didn't come from the tub, it came from his images: Damon smiling maliciously, Damon kissing her as if he were going to devour her, Damon whispering things in her ear that still made her tremble.

She rested both hands on the damp tile, resting her forehead against it. Her steam-distorted reflection stared back at her—not the cold warrior, but a woman panting, flushed, helpless before something she couldn't control.

"When did…" she murmured, her voice weak and hoarse, as if admitting to a crime, "…did I become a pervert?"

Silence answered, accompanied only by the tinkle of running water and the distant crackle of the fireplace in the next room.

Her heart beat too fast, betraying her trained calm. She was Ester Deathstriker, monster hunter, warrior who didn't tremble in the face of death. And yet… a simple man, with that insolent smile and a touch that burned like fire, was managing to shatter her defenses.

Ester closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She needed to regain control. She needed to erase those images before she emerged from the shower with her face burning and Damon, surely, noticed.

But the more she tried to compose herself, the more she felt his echo on her skin—as if Damon were there, in that steam, laughing, teasing, touching her again.

Ester bit her lip, pressing her fingers against the cold tile, as if she could anchor herself to reality.

A dry sound echoed through the bathroom. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Ester jumped, her heart racing even faster. At first, she thought it was just someone passing in the hallway, but then the doorknob turned.

"Damon?" she called out in alarm, her voice louder than she would have liked.

The door creaked open slowly. Amid the escaping steam, his figure appeared, leaning casually against the doorframe. His blond hair fell unruly over his clear eyes, and that damned smile was there, lazy, as if he'd just caught her in a secret.

Ester turned immediately, crossing her arms over her bare chest as if that were enough to hide her vulnerability. Her face was burning, though she tried to keep her usual coolness in her voice.

"What do you think you're doing here?!" she snapped, anger masking her shame.

Damon took a few steps inside, as if the hot steam were just another invitation. "Relax, no need to shout. I just came... to help."

"To help?" she repeated, incredulous, still lacking the courage to turn around completely.

He rested one hand on the damp wall, leaning in slightly. "You helped me survive that night, remember?" Now it's my turn to reciprocate. — His smile widened, mischievous. — I can… wash your back.

Ester's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in a half-protest that didn't come out. The absurdity of the sentence almost made her lose her composure, but she quickly regained her sharp tone.

"You've completely lost your mind! Get out of here now, before I—"

"Before you cut me to pieces?" he added, taking another step, until the heat of the steam mixed with his became suffocating. "You can try. But…" his voice lowered, hoarse, almost a whisper, "…isn't it fairer that I take care of you, after what you've done for me?"

Ester bit her lip hard, feeling her skin even hotter—and not just from the water. Her heart pounded against her chest as if trying to escape.

"Damon…" she said through gritted teeth, trying to sound threatening, but the hesitation in her voice betrayed her. "I don't need your help."

He tilted his head, feigning an innocent expression. "Are you sure?" Because…" He trailed off, looking at the sponge lying in the water, then back at her. "It looks like you dropped something."

Damon didn't flinch at the threat in Ester's gaze. Instead, he bent down beside the tub and picked up the sponge she'd dropped. Water ran through his fingers as he twirled it in his hand with the ease of someone at home.

"See?" he said, lifting the object. "Even fate is on my side."

Ester narrowed her eyes, her cheeks burning, but kept her arms crossed over her chest. "You've really lost your mind."

He shrugged, lifting the sponge. "I'm just trying to help."

It was then that she finally realized something that made her nearly choke on her own saliva. The blond man was wearing nothing but a towel loosely tied around his waist, revealing more skin than it should have.

"And why…" her voice trailed off before regaining its hard tone, "…are you only wearing a towel, if it's just to 'help'?"

Damon smiled, leaning in as if the teasing was delicious. "Well… you wanted me to come in armor? It wouldn't suit the mood."

The blush rose even deeper on her face. Ester turned slightly, as if her own gaze were too dangerous. "You're not going to touch me."

He raised his eyebrow, feigning surprise. "So now you're going to let me help?"

"Of course not!" she snapped immediately, biting her lip as if realizing she'd fallen into his verbal trap.

Damon's smile widened. He twirled the sponge between his fingers, taking a step closer. The steam seemed to make room for him, the heat intensifying in the stuffy air.

"So…" he murmured, his voice low and full of malice, "…you don't have to answer."

Before she could retort, he advanced slowly, each step echoing like a challenge. The wet sponge dripped hot drops onto the stone floor, while his gaze remained fixed on her, intense, provocative.

Ester instinctively backed away until her back brushed against the cold tile. The contrast of the icy stone against her damp skin made her shiver.

"Damon…" His tone sounded more like a faint warning than a real threat.

He lifted the sponge, stopping inches from her, so close that she could feel the heat of his body mingling with the steam. "Just relax." His voice was hoarse, almost whispered. "I promise to be… gentle."

Ester stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. The thick steam transformed every drop of sweat and water into tiny glistening beads that trickled down her skin, making it impossible to hide anything.

Damon slowly brought the wet sponge closer, almost as if giving her time to react. But she didn't move—or couldn't. When the touch finally came, it was gentle, a timid brush against her shoulder, down her arm to the crook of her elbow.

"See?" he murmured, his voice low, almost intimate. "Nothing much. Just helping."

Ester gritted her teeth, trying to keep her gaze steady, but heat rose in her cheeks. The touch was so light it felt like a tease in itself, as if he were enjoying playing with her limits.

The sponge slid down her lap, moving with calculated slowness. Each movement seemed to drag her breath along with it. Damon leaned closer, so that the steam carried with it the scent of his skin, warm, masculine, almost intoxicating.

When the bold gesture finally happened, it was with the same calm: the sponge brushing against the top of her breasts in a slow, circular motion, as if he were cleaning delicate crystal.

[You touched a weak spot in Ester Deathstriker - Arousal Bonus]

Ester gasped softly, backing against the cold wall, but she didn't raise her hand to stop him. The contradiction etched on her face was evident—the rigid warrior against the woman trembling beneath his touch.

Damon smirked, his expression more gentle than teasing. "You don't have to defend yourself from everything, Ester." His voice came as a deep whisper, almost a caress in itself. "At least not from me."

She pressed her lips together, her heart racing, her mind screaming that she should push him out right now. But her body… her body seemed to have already chosen, betraying every command to resist.

The next movement of the sponge moved lower, pressing lightly against the curve of her breast, making her gasp again, louder.

"Damon…" she finally managed to choke out, her tone hoarse, full of warning and plea at the same time.

He didn't pull away. He just leaned his face in, so close that his warm breath mingled with the steam. "It's just a shower… remember?"

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.