"Thank you, attendant. I'll enjoy the food."
Guilliman said this, but he did not hear the attendant's departing footsteps.
Somewhat puzzled but not angered, he removed the warm towel covering his eyes and turned around.
What he saw gave him a fright.
The Primarch's heart and soul were both stunned by the sight before him.
Yvraine was crouching behind him, clad in a clinging bathrobe that exposed her shoulders and thighs. Whether sweat or water, droplets trickled down her skin, and from the trails they left, one could sense the astonishing smoothness of her flesh.
Her emerald eyes looked somewhat timid, utterly lacking the sharp presence of the Ynnari's chosen.
With the bathhouse shrouded in mist, those eyes carried a pitiful, tearful look.
Her slightly damp hair hung down along her lowered neck, some strands clinging tightly to her skin like flowers blooming upon rice paper.
Guilliman stared blankly. Yvraine's face flushed red, and when her pale, slender hand brushed back her hair, Guilliman's heart stirred and his breathing quickened.
"Yvraine?"
"Mm."
They greeted each other in soft voices, as though afraid of startling one another.
Then Guilliman extended a large hand and gently drew her in. Yvraine obediently fell into the bath and into his embrace.
The Aeldari were taller than ordinary humans and imposing when standing face-to-face, but beside a Primarch, she seemed petite and adorable.
Guilliman's movements became gentler. He feared that his heavy hands might hurt Yvraine, but though slender, an Aeldari's body was by no means weak.
There was not a trace of excess flesh on her arms, waist, or abdomen. The contours of her muscles were clearly outlined beneath her skin.
Yvraine shyly buried her face against Guilliman's chest, and both their hearts pounded wildly.
Guilliman's mouth went dry as the jazz drums thundered.