The interior of the cabin was warm, smelling of drying herbs and the savory stew bubbling in a cast-iron pot over the hearth.
It was a simple, intimate space, a large common room with a rough-hewn table, a few furs thrown over wooden chairs, and a narrow hallway leading to the bedrooms.
Bram tossed his gear onto a rack by the door, the heavy thud shaking the floorboards.
"Make yourself at home, lad," Bram boomed, moving towards the fire to warm his hands.
"Elara, get the boy some water. He's covered in muck from the forest floor."
Kael stood near the entrance, hugging his arms around himself, feigning a shiver. In reality, he was scanning the room, noting the layout. No servants. No neighbours. Just the three of them.
Elara bustled over, her eyes still darting nervously to Kael's face.
The memory of that electric shock when she touched him outside was still fresh in her mind, confusing her. She tried to shake it off, attributing it to static or nerves.
"Of course," she said, her voice regaining some of its maternal steadiness. "Come to the back room, uh..."
"Kael," he supplied softy.
"Kael. Come. We have a wash basin there. You can't sit at the table looking like that."
She led him into a smaller room attached to the kitchen. It was a utility space, filled with baskets of laundry and a large wooden tub.
Steam rose from a bucket of hot water she had evidently prepared earlier for chores.
"Here," she said, pouring the hot water into a basin and mixing it with cold until it was steaming but safe.
She placed a rough cloth and a bar of soap next to it.
"Wash up. I'll find one of Bram's old shirts for you. It will be big, but it's clean."
She turned to leave, intending to give him privacy. That was the polite, normal thing to do.
Kael couldn't let that happen.
He stepped toward the basin and groaned, clutching his shoulder—the same shoulder Bram had slapped earlier. He staggered slightly, leaning heavily against the wall.
"Ah..." he hissed through his teeth.
Elara spun around immediately. "What is it? Are you hurt?"
"My arm," Kael lied, his voice laced with just the right amount of pathetic weakness. "When I fell... I think I twisted something. I can barely lift it."
He looked at her, making his eyes wide and helpless. "I'm sorry, Elara. I don't think I can... I don't think I can get this tunic off by myself."
Elara hesitated. A man and a woman, alone in a small room. Propriety dictated she should call her husband. Bram was just in the other room, after all.
System, active, Kael thought.
[Passive Effect: Cognitive Nudge Active]
[Focus: Reframe the situation. This isn't a man; this is a patient
"I don't want to bother Bram," Kael whispered, looking down at his feet shamefully.
"He's tired from the hunt. And... it's just a shirt. It's no different than helping a child, is it?"
The words hung in the air, seemingly innocent, but laced with the System's subtle influence.
Elara's hesitation wavered. The logic seemed sound. Bram is tired. Kael is injured. He's much younger than me. It's practically medical care.
"No... no, of course not," Elara murmured, her maternal instincts overriding her caution.
"Here. Let me help."
She stepped closer, the heat radiating from her body enveloping Kael. She reached out, her fingers fumbling slightly with the laces of his dirty tunic.
Kael stood perfectly still, watching her through half-lidded eyes. He could see the pulse jumping in her neck.
She peeled the muddy fabric away, sliding it over his head. Kael wasn't overly muscular like Bram, but he was lean and toned, his skin pale and smooth compared to the rugged hunters she was used to.
As the tunic fell to the floor, leaving him bare-chested, Elara swallowed hard. She meant to step back, but Kael shifted, wincing again.
"The mud is on my back, too," he said softly. "I can't reach it."
He picked up the wet cloth, water dripping from it onto the floor, and held it out to her. A silent command.
Elara took the cloth. Her breathing was becoming shallow again. It's just washing, she told herself. Just hospitality.
She pressed the warm, wet cloth against his shoulder blade.
[Skill Activated: Sensory Amplification (Low Output)]
"Ah..." Kael let out a low, breathy moan.
The sound vibrated through Elara's hand. It wasn't a cry of pain. It was the sound a lover made.
Elara's hand froze. "Did... did that hurt?"
"No," Kael murmured, turning his head slightly so his breath ghosted over her wrist.
"It feels... incredibly good. Your hands are so gentle, Elara. Bram is a lucky man."
The compliment, combined with the unnatural sensitivity Kael was projecting, made Elara's knees weak. She resumed scrubbing, but her movements were slower now, heavier.
She traced the line of his spine, the muscles of his lower back. The friction of the cloth against his skin seemed to echo in her own body, creating a dull, throbbing heat between her legs.
"You have... very smooth skin," she whispered, not realizing she had spoken aloud until the words were out.
"Do I?" Kael turned around slowly. He was now facing her, chest to chest, the basin between them forgotten.
"You should check the front. I think there's dirt there too."
He took her hand, the one holding the soapy cloth and guided it to his chest.
This was dangerous. Bram was twenty feet away. If he walked in, he would see his wife fondling a half-naked stranger.
But that danger was exactly what Kael needed to break her.
Elara tried to pull back, her face burning. "Kael, I—"
"Please," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, embedding a command into the plea.
"Take care of me, Elara. Just for a moment."
[Cognitive Nudge Critical Hit]
[Logic Implanted: Denying him would be rude. He needs you.]
Elara's resistance crumbled. Her fingers uncurled, pressing the sponge against his pectoral muscle.
She washed him, her eyes glued to the water running down his torso, soaking into the waistband of his trousers.
The rhythmic motion of her hand became almost hypnotic. She felt lightheaded, drunk on the strange pheromonal aura Kael was exuding.
"Honey?" Bram's voice boomed from the other room.
Elara jumped, dropping the cloth into the water with a splash. She backed away, her chest heaving as if she had just run a mile.
"I—I found a shirt!" she squeaked, her voice an octave too high. She grabbed a bundle of clothes from a shelf and shoved them at Kael, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Put these on. Dinner is almost ready."
She fled the room, her footsteps hurried.
Kael stood alone in the utility room, the wet cloth floating in the basin. He picked up the shirt she had given him, it smelled of her laundry soap and Bram's sweat.
He pulled it on, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
She hadn't told Bram to come in. She hadn't asked Bram for help. She had kept the intimacy a secret.
[Corruption Progress: Elara]
[Current Level: 5% (Intrigued / Flustered)]
[Status: Secret Shared]
Kael walked out into the main room. Elara was by the pot, stirring the stew aggressively, her back stiff. Bram looked up from the table, holding a mug of ale.
"Feel better, lad?" Bram asked.
Kael sat down opposite him, catching Elara's eye as she turned around. Her cheeks were still flushed pink.
"Much better," Kael said, holding her gaze until she was forced to look away.
"Your wife has... excellent hands."
Bram laughed heartily, slapping the table.
"That she does! Best hands in the valley."
Elara almost dropped the ladle.