The Ember In The Storm

Part II

     Elizabeth slipped herself down into the water, sighing in relief once it reached just below her chin.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the edge.

"Is it hot enough?" Jackson inquired, reminding her that she was not the only one in the room.

"Oh, yes. It is perfect," she murmured, Elizabeth cupped a handful of water in her palms, rinsing her face.

Once she opened her eyes, a loud shriek escaped her at the bare sight of Jackson resting himself in, only catching a glimpse of his torso dipping in, fortunately for her eyes.

"What are you doing!?"

"Who said the bath was yours?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak but realized he was making a good point, he practically never said the bath was hers.

She crossed her arms around her chest, the room silent enough that she could hear the flames on the candles.

Jackson had his eyes fixated on his working table across the room, seeming lost in thought. His elbows rested against the side of the tub, his whole chest displayed five feet from her, like a tease and temptation for her to just walk over and touch him.

From the height Jackson was at, Elizabeth was sure he was seated. Maybe if he stood up... she shook her head, tearing her eyes away from his body.

"I forgot to thank you for earlier... so, thank you."

Jackson turned his head to her.

"Pardon?"

"Thank you for helping me before," she repeated, still doing her best to look anywhere but him. Suddenly the grey curtains looked entertaining.

"It is alright".

Silence.

"Do you do it much often?" She finally turned to him, finding his eyes on her already. He frowned in confusion. "Kill people, I mean."

"Yes." Plain, simple, forward. "I help in the war, Elizabeth, I kill people many times than I would like to."

"That's not what I mea—"

"How is your foot?"

A topic he does not like to cover, great. She thought. She was not going to push it and test his limits.

"The water makes it much better, thank you."

"A physician will take a look at it first thing in the morning."

"I will be fine, it's nothing serious," she insisted, reaching into the water and massaging her foot, she hissed a little but composed a straight face.

"Not like that. You may have dislocated a bone, best we tend to it before it's too late."

"Would it make a difference?" She muttered to herself, still within earshot.

"It would," his tone was even to hers. Her eyes rolled up to meet his.

Silence. Elizabeth turned her body from his, placing her hands on the edge of the tub before resting her head. Her back straightened and glistened from the light escaping the candles.

Jackson could not hide that he found her back very attractive, for reasons he could not know. Her lean shoulders, her sharp spine that went from her neck to her thin waist and wide hips.

A back fetish sounded humorous.

"As a young girl, I always looked forward to getting married," she suddenly spoke. "I wanted a husband I could wake up to always. I never knew anything about the war. I wanted us to live on the mountain, far from everyone. I never knew about life's struggles. I wanted him to love me like I was his world. I never knew reality."