Aneira was too weak to even open her eyes. Her body leaned heavily into Jaxton's, every inch of her sticky skin clinging to him, as though even gravity had given up on her. Her breath was shallow, her legs limp from exhaustion, and her chest gently rose and fell as her head rested against his shoulder.
"Are you all right?" Jaxton asked, his voice low and hoarse, but soft, tender.
She could only manage a soft, breathy hmm in response. That was all she could give him. She didn't have the strength to speak. Didn't have the strength to think. Her body wasn't her own right now, it was weightless, floating somewhere between consciousness and sleep.
Jaxton carried her into the bathroom with careful steps, like she was something fragile. He leaned down to lower her into the bathtub, his hands gentle, deliberate. The warm water started to fill the tub with a low hum. He climbed in behind her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist, anchoring her against his chest.
