CHAPTER 11 — Control

Time passed in a blur. I stayed curled up in the water, the heat slowly seeping away as my sobs softened into quiet sniffles. My body ached, and my chest felt hollow, but I stayed like that until a knock at the bathroom door broke through the haze.

"Everything okay in there?" Zaydon's voice was soft, careful, like he already knew the answer.

I wiped my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat, not ready to respond. Instead, I focused on the way the flowers continued to drift across the water, as if they hadn't noticed the storm inside me at all.

"Princess… are you okay?" His muffled voice came from behind the closed door.

No. "Yes."

There was a moment of silence, the kind that felt too heavy, like he was weighing whether to believe me. Then, the door creaked softly, as if he'd leaned his full weight against it.

"I said I'm fine," I snapped, but my voice cracked, betraying me. The words weren't nearly as convincing as they needed to be.

"It's okay if you aren't," he said quietly.

That simple statement shattered something inside me. More tears slipped down my cheeks, warm and relentless, betraying the fight I had tried to hold onto. I glared at the closed door as if it were his fault for making me feel this way—for opening a crack in the wall I had so carefully built.

"What? No, 'You'll survive this, you'll get through it' crap?" I spat, venom lacing my words as I tried to provoke him. I wanted a fight—something familiar, something I knew how to handle better than this suffocating vulnerability.

But there was only silence on the other side of the door.

Was Zaydon Icarus actually thinking before he spoke for once? The thought was almost laughable. He was usually reckless and blunt, charging into situations headfirst and uncaring of whose teeth got broken in the process.

Then, his voice came through again, softer this time. "Can I come in?"

Never mind. He didn't think at all.

"Fuck no," I shot back instantly, without hesitation.

"Please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't say what I need to through a door. Or at least… come out."

I must have been losing my mind, because for a moment, I actually considered it.

I was still very much naked, and while my current position covered the important parts, the thought of him seeing me like this—raw, vulnerable, and stripped down in more ways than one—should have been horrifying. It should have been.

But I didn't want to go out there, either. I didn't want to face the world. I didn't want to put the mask of strength back on, to pretend that I was okay when I was so clearly falling apart.

I was too tired. Too broken. Too exhausted to pretend.

I sighed. This was my choice. He was extending an olive branch, and I had the power to either take it or cut it down.

"Come in," I heard myself say, the words escaping before I could overthink them.

My mind spun as Zaydon entered, and I kept my arms tightly wrapped around my legs in the tub, pulling them even closer as if I could disappear into myself. His gaze didn't linger on me—not even for a second. Behind him, he carried one of the small chairs that had been tucked near the fireplace. Silently, he walked over and positioned it behind the tub so that my back faced him.

I heard him sit down, the wood creaking softly beneath his weight. His fingers brushed lightly against my shoulder as he gently moved a wet strand of hair that had plastered itself there, tucking it back behind me with the rest.

I pulled my legs even tighter, hugging them like a lifeline. My heart thudded against my ribs, and I could feel the heat creeping up my neck and ears. This was probably a bad idea, but I wasn't a quitter. I was determined to push through the awkwardness and ignore the blush threatening to betray me.

Before I could ask what he had meant to say behind the door, he spoke first.

"Can I?"

I frowned and turned my head just enough to see him from the corner of my eye. His hand was outstretched, close enough to touch my hair.

"What?"

"Can I help with your hair?" he asked patiently, his voice low and warm, the kind of voice that could make me agree to almost anything.

I nodded and turned my head back around. "Can you tell me what you couldn't say behind the door?" I asked softly, loosening one arm just enough to push one of the jasmine flowers bobbing along the surface of the water.

His calloused fingers began working through my hair, untangling it with care. Each time his fingers grazed my skin, goosebumps rippled along my arms and neck. I stayed silent, focusing on the sensation and the gentle rhythm as I waited for his answer.

"I want you to know," he began softly, "that you don't have to be strong, resilient, or a survivor right now. If you need this moment to feel weak, then be weak. If you want to be strong, be strong. If you feel anger or vengeance, let yourself feel them. As long as you're breathing and feeling, that's enough. No matter how broken or whole you are, I will always be here."

I sucked in a breath, his words bittersweet as they settled in my chest, stirring emotions I wasn't sure how to process.

"Yeah, I don't get a choice in whether you're around or not," I replied quietly. The words weren't sharp—there was none of my usual bite. Just honesty.

His hands stilled for a moment before resuming, this time massaging shampoo into my hair. The sensation was soothing, grounding, and so comforting. I bit my lip to suppress the soft moan that almost slipped out as his fingers worked through my scalp.

He spoke again, his voice steady but gentle. "Putting the dragon bond aside, I do care, Azalea. And even if these words mean nothing to you, I'll say them anyway: I am always here. Use me, hate me, or love me—I'm staying. Not because of the bond, but because of you. It's always been you that I stay for."

I squeezed my legs tighter, as if that could ease the sudden tightness constricting my chest. His fingers paused briefly before trailing down to the crook of my neck, tracing the outline of the bite mark he had left there. His touch was light, almost featherlike, but it sent shivers down my spine.

"I don't have the energy to keep fighting with you, Zaydon," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound steady. "But I also don't have it in me to trust you to be anything but a protector."

His hand froze, and for a moment, the air between us felt too heavy to breathe. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze, but when I finally did, I saw the hurt reflected in his eyes—mixed with guilt, regret, and quiet acceptance. He nodded once, like he had expected my answer but hoped for something different.

"I am your shield, then, Princess," he said softly. "Whatever you need, I will be. All you have to do is ask, and if it's within my power, I'll do it. And if it's not within my power…" His gaze never wavered, steady and resolute. "I will make it within my power."

And somehow, despite the ache in my chest, despite the fear and doubt twisting inside me, his words settled like a promise that wouldn't let go.

I bit my lip, unable to respond as my chest tightened further, emotions pressing against my ribcage like a dam ready to burst. His words shouldn't have felt comforting—but they did.

He exhaled softly and stood, the chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. His face was unreadable again—closed off, as though he didn't want me to see what he was thinking. "I'll let you rinse your hair and bring you some of the clothes we bought today," he said, his voice gentle but distant.

As he turned to leave, something inside me stirred. Maybe it was the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing through me, or maybe it was something else entirely, but I didn't want him to go. Suddenly, the idea of being left alone felt unbearable.

I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was about to say, and before I could second-guess myself, the words slipped out. "Zaydon…"

He paused mid-step and turned back to face me, his eyes locking onto mine with so much emotion that made my breath hitch. There was something there—something raw, intense, and impossible to ignore. I swallowed hard, my throat tightening, the rest of my words tangled up in the chaos of my thoughts.

But I found them, just barely. "Wait. Help me rinse it out," I whispered, my hand reaching out and catching his wrist.

Shock flickered across his face. For a moment, he just stared at me, as if unsure whether he'd heard correctly. But slowly, he backed up and sat down in the chair again, his movements careful, almost hesitant, like he was waiting for me to change my mind.

I wasn't going to.

I was taking the reins now, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn't feel terrifying—it felt good. With a quiet breath, I slowly unfurled my body from its curled position and leaned back into the water, the warm liquid rippling around me.

I heard the sharp intake of his breath, and when I lifted my gaze, it collided with his.

Heat bloomed across my face and neck, the blush already creeping down my throat as his gaze burned into me. But this wasn't just watching—this was something more, something raw and unguarded, as if I had stripped him bare without even touching him. The pure yearning reflected in his eyes sent a wave of warmth through me, one that had nothing to do with the bathwater.

The cool air brushed over my skin, tightening my nipples and sending a shiver down my spine. His gaze flicked down briefly before snapping back to mine, and the intensity in his expression made it impossible to look away. My breath hitched again as I leaned back further, my elbows propping me up against the smooth bottom of the tub, my back arching slightly, my head tilting all the way back. The water lapped softly around me, but the tension in the room was anything but gentle.

I wasn't sure where this surge of confidence had come from—maybe it was the vulnerability I'd just shown, or maybe it was the realization that he wanted me, damaged or not—but right now, it didn't matter.

I was in control, and for the first time in a long time, that power felt like mine to wield.

"Zaydon... I said, help me wash it," I murmured, my voice low and husky—a tone I barely recognized as my own.

His hands trembled, the slightest shake betraying the control he was struggling to maintain. But then he moved, his hands settling gently in my hair, fingers threading through the strands as he began rinsing out the shampoo. His eyes stayed locked on mine, the connection tethering us in a way that made my breath come faster.

The rough pads of his fingers grazed the back of my neck, and the spark of contact sent a shock through me, my breath hitching audibly. His touch lingered, as if he felt it too—something deeper than the simplicity of the task. Every stroke of his fingers down the length of my hair felt intimate, like more than just washing away soap. It was a slow, quiet yearning, an unspoken conversation that neither of us knew how to finish.

When he was done, he carefully swept my hair over my shoulder, but his hands lingered, as though letting go would cost him more than he was ready to give up. Then, he placed a hand on the side of the tub and leaned down, closing the space between us until his face was just inches from mine.

I could feel his breath brushing against my damp skin, warm and steady, but the tension between us was anything but. His eyes had darkened, the yearning I'd seen moments ago morphing into something stronger—desire, raw and intense, like he was on the edge of giving in to something neither of us could control.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His gaze flicked down to my lips, then back to my eyes, like he was waiting for permission—waiting for the slightest sign that he could give in. And the way his breath deepened, the way his hand flexed slightly against the edge of the tub, made it clear just how much he wanted to.

And I realized, I wanted him to, too.

"Anything else you need to use me for, Princess?" His voice was hoarse, lower and rougher than I'd ever heard it before.

I sucked in a breath, the air between us electric, charged with more than just words. My body was torn between fight and surrender, my heart racing so fast I was sure he could hear it. His gaze never wavered, steady and for a moment, the only thing keeping me tethered to reality was the way his hand gripped the side of the tub—tight, as if he needed that anchor just as much as I did.

My breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as my mind raced with conflicting emotions. I should stop this. I shouldn't want any man to touch me ever again. The logical part of my brain screamed at me to pull back, to put distance between us before I got hurt. And yet… this felt different. 

This wasn't something being taken from me. This was all me. My choice.

I was taking what I wanted, and I was only giving what I chose to give. The power in that realization sent a thrill through me, but it also terrified me. Because this wasn't just anyone—this was Zaydon. I wasn't playing with fire here. I was diving headfirst into a volcano.

He noticed the turmoil flickering in my eyes, and his fingers moved, gently tracing along my jaw before sliding down to my chin, then lower, brushing over my bottom lip. The touch was featherlight, but it felt like a jolt of lightning, sending a shiver through me that made me freeze.

I swear I stopped breathing.

"Shh, Princess," he murmured, his voice a soft hum, warm and calming. His thumb brushed back and forth across my lip, lazy and slow, as though he had all the time in the world. His gaze never left my mouth, like it had become the center of his universe, and he didn't mind one bit if he got pulled into it. "I'm okay with you using me for whatever you want. It doesn't need to mean anything to you. Just let me help you in whatever way you need."

I swallowed thickly, the lump in my throat barely budging as my heart pounded like a drum. His words were dangerous. They weren't laced with guilt or expectation—they were freedom, a gift I hadn't expected.

Volcano… here I come.

At this point, I couldn't tell if the sound roaring in my ears was the water or my blood. My lips parted, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out, breathy and raw: "Touch me more, Zaydon."

His breath hitched, and I watched as his eyes darkened, the green shifting into something deeper—like the shadows of a forest at dusk. His lips parted, and he bit down gently on the corner of his bottom lip, as though restraining himself, holding back the storm I had just unleashed. His thumb brushed over my lips one last time before his hand trailed down the curve of my neck, pausing at the hollow of my throat. For a moment, he lingered there, his fingers feeling the flutter of my pulse beneath them, before sliding back up to gently grip my neck.

His touch wasn't rough. It wasn't demanding. It was just enough to hold me there, to make sure I knew he was with me—anchoring me, even as I unraveled.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my skin, the space between us shrinking to nothing. His lips hovered mere inches from mine, and when he spoke, his voice was a low growl, rough and filled with barely contained hunger. 

"Just touch, Princess?" The words rumbled like distant thunder, promising a storm I wasn't sure I could weather.

I couldn't trust my voice. It felt trapped, tangled with the heat burning through me, but the quiet whimper that escaped my lips said enough. His gaze flicked down, as if savoring the sound, and then his mouth moved—close enough that I could feel him everywhere, without him fully touching me.

His tongue darted out, teasing the seam of my lips before flicking over my bottom lip. The sensation sent a bolt of heat straight through me, making me gasp. My thighs squeezed together instinctively, as if that could somehow ease the ache that was building between them, desperate and insistent.

But the way his hand tightened ever so slightly against my neck told me he knew. He felt it too, and he wasn't planning to stop unless I asked him to. And right now, stopping was the last thing I wanted.

Zaydon's eyes locked onto mine, intense and searching, as if he was reading every shift in my expression, every flicker of hesitation or need. His breathing grew heavier, matching mine, the air between us thick and charged. For a brief moment, when he pulled back slightly, I thought he was going to stop—to back off like he had done before, leaving me teetering on the edge of this unbearable want.

But he didn't.

Instead, his fingers almost seem to reverently touch my collarbones and then slowly trail down to my breasts. He cups them and then takes his calloused palms and brushes them over my nipples. Heat flooded into my core, and I reached up and held him behind his neck as if I needed it to anchor me through the wave of desire. 

His fingers circled my areola with large, lazy, circular strokes before they captured my nipples at their base, and then he gently rolled them between his thumbs and index fingers. The bath oil he had added had made it easy for him to do it smoothly, though I doubted he needed the help.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," Zaydon growled, his voice raw and thick with need. 

My eyes rolled back into my head as I felt him increase the pressure, and when they opened again, they were hazy and unfocused, as if the heat between us and touch had taken over every part of me.

"I've hardly touched you," he continued, his voice like a low, dangerous hum against my skin, "and yet I know how ready you would be for me if my hands went lower—and by all the known gods if I had to taste you, I would never get enough."

The heat in his words seared straight through me, leaving me breathless and so wet I could feel the difference in consistency between the water and my own arousal. I bit my bottom lip, but it did nothing to stifle the whimper that escaped.

Could you come from this? He was only touching my breasts, but I was pretty sure I was going to. Then suddenly, he pinched my nipples, just hard enough to send a shock of sensation straight through me. Pain and pleasure blurred into one gloriously good feeling, and I let out a gasp, the sound raw and desperate as it echoed off the walls.

"Azalea… you didn't answer my question," he growled, his voice hoarse and wanting. His fingers tugged again, teasing and demanding, making my body arch instinctively toward him.

Oh gods, what was his question? I tried to remember, tried to pull the words from the haze clouding my mind, but I couldn't focus. Not when every nerve in my body was on fire. Not when his hands knew exactly how to unravel me, and I was about to come apart at any moment.

"I—" I started, but the words dissolved into a whimper as his thumb brushed over the sensitive peak he had just pinched, soothing the ache and reigniting the spark all at once.

"Azalea… do you only want touch?" he repeated, or more accurately purred, the sound vibrating against my skin, setting every nerve ablaze.

Gods above, I didn't think I could handle more—I was already teetering dangerously close to freefalling off the edge and just coming right now. And yet, despite the tremble in my body, despite the overwhelming heat and tension pooling low in my belly, I found myself shaking my head, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I want more, Zaydon," I whispered, the words escaping before I could second-guess them. My voice was breathless, needy, and completely unrecognizable as my own.

He didn't hesitate and paused only a second to stand and lean over so that his head was now in line with my breasts, and he captured one in his mouth. His other hand continued to work while his mouth sucked and licked the already sensitive nipple of the other. 

"Oh my gods, Zaydon," I gasped, my voice breaking as a second haze blurred my vision, thick and overwhelming. The second his mouth found my nipple, nothing else mattered—nothing but the earth-shattering orgasm that hovered just within reach, teasing me with its promise of sweet release, and I fucking chased it as my last breath depended on it.

My throat dried with need as I looked up and noticed that in this position, his crotch was directly in line with my face, and he had a large bulge in his pants that had me wanting more than just his fingers and mouth. I found myself also desperate with the need to have his cock deep in my mouth.

But that thought vanished as quickly as it came, along with my ability to breathe, as he combined a light, teasing nip with the flick of his tongue over my nipple. The sensation exploded through me, sending shockwaves down my spine and to my already painfully throbbing pussy.

And then, I was free—free from the tension, from the restraint, from everything that had tethered me to the edge. I fell, breathless and weightless, consumed by the wave that crashed through me, leaving no part of me untouched. My body arched, trembling beneath his hands, as I let go of everything but him. A few more of those was all he needed to do, and then I was free from falling off the edge. 

"Fuck Zaydon, I'm com- 

I was coming so hard I was shaking, but I didn't even have time to think or breathe, let alone finish that sentence, as Zaydons hands and mouth left my breasts only so that his hands could snake under my ass to cup my cheeks and lift me so that my pussy could meet his face that had just half submerged itself underwater. The second his mouth brushed against my pussy, he latched onto it, and his tongue flattened over the sensitive flesh and tasted every inch of me that he could cover with one lick; the orgasm I was currently experiencing rolled into another, to which he responded by licking a second time only this time it was faster and more greedy than the first. 

I writhed, and water splashed over the bath as his mouth remained latched to my pussy and continued to lick and suck my pussy under the water. The hold he had on my ass was firm and tight, so I couldn't move and had no choice but to ride the waves of ecstasy out as he dragged out each and every single orgasm I had. 

Did the man not need to breathe?

Finally, Zaydon gently lowered me back into the water, his touch lingering just long enough to send another shiver down my spine. My skin hummed, oversensitive, every inch of me alive and tingling as I tried to gather myself. But my gaze stayed on him, unwilling to look away, even as a shudder wracked through me again. My body was still trembling, and I was pretty sure my legs wouldn't let me stand even if I wanted them to right now.

Slowly, Zaydon rose from the water, droplets streaming down his face and shoulders, glistening as they traced the hard lines of his chest and the muscles shifting beneath his skin. He ran a hand through his soaked hair, pushing it back, the motion lazy, unhurried—like he had all the time in the world.

With a soft exhale, he leaned into the chair, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The silence between us was thick but not uncomfortable, filled with the soft sound of water rippling against the edges of the tub. We were both lost in it, in the aftershocks of what we had just shared, neither of us ready to break the moment.

But as I really started to take him in from the bath—the way his soaked hair clung to his face, droplets sliding lazily down his chest—something unexpected happened. A laugh bubbled up from my chest, breaking free before I could stop it. It wasn't forced or polite; it was genuine, raw, and free. I clamped a hand over my mouth, but the sound slipped through anyway, filling the quiet space with the warmth of it.

Zaydon raised a brow, confusion flickering across his face, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "What's so funny?"

I couldn't stop laughing long enough to answer right away. Tears of mirth stung my eyes as I tried to speak, breathless and light, and finally, I managed to choke it out between fits of giggles. "You… you have a flower behind your ear."

His hand shot up, fingers brushing over his hair until he found it, and when he did, a grin spread across his face—a real, roguish grin that lit up his eyes in a way I hadn't seen in years. "Well," he said, leaning back lazily, "if it makes you laugh like that, I might keep it there forever."

I laughed even harder, the sound bouncing off the bathroom walls. "Forever? Great, now I'm stuck with a walking flower pot instead of a dragon."

He threw his head back and let out a loud, genuine laugh—a sound so rich and unexpected that it made me pause just to listen, just to soak it in. My chest felt lighter as if the sound itself had lifted the weight I'd been carrying for so long. For the first time in what felt like forever, I laughed with him without hesitation or fear holding me back.

For a moment, there was no pain, no turmoil, no shadows lurking in the corners of my mind. Just us—two people tangled in a moment of pure, unbidden happiness.

And as I laughed, I realized how much I had missed this. I had missed him. I had missed us before everything became so complicated. And in that moment, I let myself hope, just for a second, that maybe we could find this again—find a version of us that wasn't defined by pain but by laughter.