Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 103 - 105

Chapter 103: Chapter 105

A bath, my first one since—forever!

Even with waterproof dressing, I couldn’t, but now I can.

The warmth of the water wraps around me as I recline in the bath, my head resting against the cool edge of the tub. My eyes are closed, the steam curling gently around me, the faint scent of lavender in the air. The water laps softly against my skin, the surface glittering with a layer of bubbles that floats up to my neckline.

When I open my eyes, the faint shape at the edge of my vision sharpens, and I startle slightly. It’s Vance, leaning casually against the doorway, his shoulder pressed to the frame. His gaze flicks to mine, calm yet intent, grateful for the bubbles shielding me.

"Um... I don’t even have words right now," I mutter, instinctively sinking deeper into the water. "Should I just say what we both know I’m thinking?"

"That I should join you?" he teases, his lips curling into an amused smile.

My flat stare is enough to earn a chuckle, his eyes dropping to the floor in playful surrender before lifting again, his expression softening into something serious.

"I just wanted to make sure you didn’t drown or something."

"In a bath?" I quip, raising an eyebrow.

He steps closer, reaching for the soap bottle perched on the edge. "I just wanted to make sure that if you needed me, I was here this time."

"This time?" I echo, frowning slightly. "You’ve been here from the start, even when you didn’t want to be."

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he sits on the edge of the tub, rolling his sleeves up in such a provocative way. The cloth in his hand disappears into the water, soaking up its heat before he wrings it out. His free hand gently guides me forward, and I comply, leaning slightly as the damp cloth presses against my back.

The first slow circle of his touch sends a ripple of warmth down my spine. His movements are measured and soothing, the cloth gliding in languid strokes. I don’t need his help, but I can’t bring myself to protest. Each motion lulls me further into relaxation, my head drooping forward, eyes fluttering shut.

For a moment, all I feel is him, not distant aches, just his steady hands, the comforting rhythm of the water, and the quiet hum of his presence beside me.

When the cloth reaches the small of my back, then sweeps over to my sensitive centre, the cloth ebbs from his grasp so his fingers can fondle my front, seeking permission that I permit with my thighs parting beneath the water as two fingers slip into me with almost punishing slowness, a steady intensity, building urgency, heightening urgency that ignites a devastating throb that pulses through me, a thrill of pleasure that makes my head tip back, my panting breaths spilling out his name.

"No," he says, his voice rough. "Eyes on me."

When my head levels. The haze in my mind clears just enough to register the moment his lips find mine. The connection is electric, charged with an intensity that strikes a precarious balance—both undeniably respectful and ravenous. His touch feels deliberate, as though he’s holding himself back, ever mastering control, but there’s a depth to the kiss that leaves no doubt of desire. Each second stretches, blurring the line between restraint and raw hunger coursing beneath.

And so he succumbs as if pulled into the gravity of me. As he sheds his layers to climb into the bath with me, water sloshing around us and even cascading over the edge to drench the floor. My laugh is cut out when his lips claim every sound as I hold on to his shoulders as he settles on top of me, my hands feeling every ripple of muscle as they bunch in his back with every shift of movement.

He breaks away suddenly, breathing heavily. "Your wounds," he says with his voice wrought with worry.

"They’re fine," I say softy.

"And you want to—"

"I want you," I whisper, and his smile illuminates the gleam in his eyes.

***

Kelsey POV

With the Apple Pencil gripped lightly in my hand, my fingers glide swiftly across the iPad screen, sketching the final details of my design with practised precision. The room hums with quiet concentration as I drift toward a mannequin showcasing one of my nearly finished creations—an abstract lunar concept steeped in minimalist elegance. Yet, something feels incomplete, a puzzle piece missing from the ensemble.

I pause, lowering the iPad, stepping back to take in the scene from a wider perspective. My gaze darts between the mannequin and the chaotic workshop table cluttered with swatches, sketches, and discarded fabrics. My head tilts instinctively, as if angling my vision will unlock the design’s secret.

Then my eyes catch the shimmer of sheer, iridescent fabric peeking out from a pile. It clicks. The top garment needs a layer of ethereal embroidery—delicate, intricate, and translucent enough to capture the lunar essence I envisioned.

Excitement bubbles as I swiftly update the design on the iPad, fine-tuning every element. Choosing the right texture, layering the garment, and perfecting the embellishments take time, but with every adjustment, the vision sharpens into reality. When the final rendering comes together, a squeal escapes my lips like a schoolgirl, and I run out of the studio to Avara’s room to show her.

I enter without knocking, barely lifting my head with pride blooming in my chest, but an outcry brings me to a jarring halt. Shouts, groans, half-screams, the type you’d hear if you had a porno playing in the background. Perplexed, I make the mistake of venturing closer, the ensuite door wide open and I peek inside to see Avara arching violently in the bath with Vance on top of her grunting like a dog as he thrusts himself into her like he can’t make it fit.

I yank myself, reversing out of the room until I close the door in front of me softly. And when I do, I flinch back when I see that Landen has materialized behind me with a questioning expression.

"You okay? You kinda look pale. Didn’t know that could happen to black people."

Irritation eviscerates every trace of trauma. "Avara is not feeling well. She’s asleep," I say as I walk away abruptly.

Landen accelerates, his hand darting out—not to seize me, but to swipe the iPad from my grasp. My grip is too light, and I barely react before he taps the screen to life, inspecting my latest design. His jaw tightens, his head tilting as if weighing its worth.

"Wow," he murmurs, voice laced with genuine surprise. "I don’t know much about fashion, but this is... pretty."

I lunge, grabbing for his arm, but he effortlessly keeps the device out of reach, his long frame an unfair advantage. "Didn’t you attend Paris fashion week—that’s high fashion." I press, narrowing my eyes as I try to outmaneuver him.

"Yeah, but if I saw something like this, I might’ve actually enjoyed myself," he says, nonchalant as ever.

When he finally lowers the iPad, I snatch it back with a sharp tug and spin away, muttering my annoyance under my breath. But, of course, he trails behind me like a lost puppy.

"Got any more?" he asks, sounding far too intrigued for my liking.

"It’s literally my entire business," I snap, my voice edged with scorn.

"Can I see them?" he presses.

"No."

"I’ll just look them up," he teases, a smirk in his tone. "Probably easy to find."

"Do that," I fire back without looking at him. "Far away from me."

"Wow—" he starts, but I whirl around to jab a hand against his chest to stop him in his tracks. His gaze drops to my hand, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

"If you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t like you," I hiss. "Flashing a smile or money won’t change that. And do you know why? Because of how you treated Avara. She told me everything, including what happened in the car."

A flicker of amusement crosses his face, infuriating me further. "Out of all the things I’ve done, that’s what you bring up first?" He steps closer, and I yank my hand back, my pulse spiking as he invades my space. "What, did some part of you like it?"

"You’re disgusting."

"You didn’t answer the question. Here’s an easier one. How did you know I attended fashion shows before?" he asks with smug expectation.

I gag reflexively. "I did a deep dive on each of you when Avara told me about the alliance. So pipe down, and if I had to choose a Vacheron. You wouldn’t even make the roster."

I turn back around, his stare clinging to my back.