The Soaking Tub

The water in the massive slate tub was hot enough to scald, but Lily didn't reach for the cold tap. She sat perfectly still, her knees drawn to her chest, the steam curling around her like a bridal veil.

Through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the master bathroom, the lake was a sheet of black obsidian, swallowing the moonlight.

"Head back, little pearl," a deep voice rumbled.

Lily obeyed instantly. She leaned back against the cool stone rim, closing her eyes.

Elias was there. He moved with a silence that defied his size. He was a massive man, his shoulders broad enough to block out the view of the forest, his hands large enough to crush stones. Yet, as he cupped water in his palms to rinse the jasmine oil from her hair, his touch was lighter than silk.

"You were tense today," Elias murmured, his fingers massaging her scalp. "Did you worry?"

"No, Elias," Lily whispered, the lie tasting sweet on her tongue. "I never worry when you're here."

It was half-true. Before Elias, Lily’s life had been a jagged noise of overdue notices, double shifts at a diner, and the constant, grinding fear of eviction. Then he had found her. He had paid the debts. He had moved her into the Glass House. He asked for nothing but her presence, her obedience, and her total surrender.

"Good," Elias said. "There is no need for worry. I provide. I protect."

He rinsed the suds away. Then, his large hand moved to her throat. He didn't squeeze; he just rested it there, a heavy, grounding weight.

"Take a breath," he commanded softly.

Lily inhaled sharply, filling her lungs with the humid, scented air.

Elias pushed.

He guided her backward, sliding her under the surface of the hot water.

Lily didn't fight. This was part of their ritual. He liked to test her. He liked to see how long she could exist in his element.

Underwater, the silence was absolute. Lily opened her eyes. Through the distortion of the water, she saw Elias looming above her, his face calm, his eyes glowing with a faint, bioluminescent green. He looked like a god. He looked like a monster.

Her lungs began to burn. The instinct to thrash flared in her chest, but she suppressed it. *He will bring me up,* she told herself. *He always brings me up.*

She was his doll. His precious glass thing. He wouldn't break her.

Just as the edges of her vision began to gray, the hand on her chest tightened. He pulled her up.

Lily broke the surface, gasping, water streaming from her face. She coughed, clinging to the rim of the tub.

"Good girl," Elias purred, leaning down to kiss her wet forehead. "Thirty seconds longer than last time. You are learning."

"Learning what?" Lily wheezed, leaning into his chest.

"To trust me," Elias said, wrapping a thick towel around her shivering shoulders. "To trust the water."

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