The drops of water that clung to the Duke's hair dripped from the ends, sliding down his bronzed skin that glistened in the flickering of the candlelight.
The heated water from the warm bath felt like a soothing massage to Sterling's achy muscles after days spent in the frigid grips of the Halan forest. As he relaxed, soaking in the tub, he stared at his disheveled image in the dressing mirror.
He noticed his eye was turning black, and the right side of his jaw was bruised and swollen from where Merrick had belted him a good one with his fist.
Sterling held his jaw in his hand, ratcheting it back and forth. He could still feel the sting from where he was struck.
He remembered the first time he had tangled with Merrick when they lived at Inreus. The Duke chuckled to himself at the thought. "The old boy still has not lost his touch." He muttered, arching a brow at his reflection.
