searching for Stefan.
But now she had him back again, quite safe and clean (he’d had a
long bath while she insisted on scrubbing him gently with all sorts of
brushes and pumice stones, and then a shower, and then a rather
cramped shower with her). His hair was drying into the silky soft dark
shock—a little longer than he usually kept it—that she knew. He hadn’t
had energy for frivolities like keeping his hair short and clean before.
Elena understood that.
And now…there were no guards or kitsune around to spy on them.
There was nothing to keep them from each other. They had been playful
in the shower, splashing each other, Elena always making sure to keep
her feet on the no-slip guard and ready to try to support Stefan’s lanky
weight. But they could not be playful now.
The shower’s spray had been very helpful, too—at concealing the
teardrops that kept flowing down Elena’s cheeks. She could—oh, dear
heaven—count and feel each one of his ribs. He was just bones and skin,
her beautiful Stefan, but his green eyes were alive, sparkling and
dancing in his pale face.
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After they were dressed in nightclothes they simply sat on the bed
for a little while. Sitting together, both breathing—Stefan had got into