Page 130 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

He turned to the bathtub, adjusting the taps with methodical precision. Lukewarm—not cold enough to shock her system, but cool enough to draw out the fever. While the water ran, he gathered towels, setting them within easy reach.

Serenity slumped against the wall, seemingly having lost the battle to remain upright. Her usual sharp awareness had vanished, replaced by a vulnerability that twisted something in his chest.

"I've never seen you sick," he said, returning to her side. "Didn't think it was possible."

"Not supposed to be," she mumbled. "Haven't been sick since... college."

The bath filled to an appropriate level, and Darius turned off the taps. Now came the delicate part. He crouched before her, meeting her unfocused gaze.

"I need to get you in the water. Your clothes have to come off."

Under normal circumstances, she would have had a cutting remark about his presumption. Now, she merely blinked slowly, the severity of her condition evident in her lack of protest.

"Can you lift your arms?"

She tried, raising them halfway before they dropped back to her sides. "Shit."

"I'll help you," he said, carefully grasping the hem of her sweat-soaked t-shirt. "Tell me to stop if you want me to."

His fingers worked efficiently, clinically, as he eased the shirt over her head. He had undressed countless women in his life, but never with such absence of sexual intent. His sole focus was her wellbeing, a strange and unfamiliar priority that overshadowed even his natural response to her beauty.

"S'cold," she muttered as her skin hit the air.

"Good. You're too hot." He kept his eyes respectfully averted as much as possible while helping her out of her remaining clothes.

Once done, he lifted her again, one arm supporting her back while the other hooked beneath her knees. She felt even smaller without her clothes, her usually formidable presence diminished by illness.

"This will help," he promised, lowering her gently into the water.

She gasped at the temperature change, muscles tensing. "Cold!"

"Lukewarm," he corrected, supporting her head with one hand. "Your fever's making it feel colder than it is."

Her teeth chattered slightly, but she didn't try to escape the bath. Instead, she leaned back against his supporting arm, eyes closing.

Darius reached for a soft washcloth, dipping it in the water before running it over her shoulders. "When I was eight, my mother did this for me," he found himself saying, the memory surfacing unexpectedly. "I had scarlet fever. Highest temperature the doctor had ever seen in a child."

He continued moving the cloth over her skin, watching as rivulets of water traced patterns down her arms.

"She stayed with me for three days, keeping me cool like this. My father was furious—said she was the matriarch of the Castellano family, not a nursemaid." His voice took on a distant quality. "She told him that before she was a Castellano, she was my mother, and nothing would ever change that."

Serenity's eyes had opened slightly, seeming to focus on him through the haze of fever.

"You don't talk about her," she whispered.

His hand paused briefly before continuing its gentle ministrations. "No, I don't."

He dipped the cloth again, bringing it to her forehead. "She would have liked you. She appreciated people who stood their ground."

A small smile curved Serenity's lips. "Sounds like my mother."

"Is that where you get it from? I've wondered." He moved the cloth to her neck, careful to keep his touch appropriate despite their intimacy.

"She taught me... survival," Serenity murmured, eyes drifting closed again. "Said Omegas who bend... break."

"Wise woman."

They fell silent as he continued to bathe her, his movements methodical and gentle. The water gradually absorbed her fever's heat, and he noticed her breathing becoming less labored.

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