Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 134: Every Night, I’ll Remind You..

The steam curls around us like a living thing, soft and warm, rising from the water in lazy spirals. It clings to the mirror, fogging the glass until our reflections become ghosts, then fades only to be replaced by more.

The bathroom has become its own world—separate from everything outside, existing only for this moment, for us.

Deniz and I sit in the bathtub, the warm water enveloping us, holding us in its gentle embrace. My back is pressed against his chest—solid, warm, his. I can feel every breath he takes, the rise and fall of his body against mine.

His arm wraps around me, just below my ribs, holding me close like he’s afraid I might dissolve into the steam.

His other hand moves slowly. Deliberately. Reverently.

His fingers trace the curve of my ear first—featherlight, exploring. Then they drift lower, following a path I can’t see but can feel in every nerve ending.

They find the bite marks on my neck. Some are dark, bruised deep purple, where he held on longest. Others are faint, already fading to soft pink, memories starting to blur.

He traces each one. Slowly.

As if memorizing them by touch.

His fingers continue downward, following the kiss marks scattered across my chest like a map of last night.

They shimmer in the water, red and purple and tender—constellations of proof that I was loved, claimed, wanted.

My back still aches. But the warm water has softened the pain, turned it into something almost pleasant.

A reminder that lingers beneath my skin.

I stare at the mirror wall in front of us. It’s the only clear spot in the steam—a window into this private world. In it, I can see us both.

Him, wrapped around me. Me, leaning into him. Two people who somehow found each other.

His dark eyes trace every curve of my body in the reflection, following the path of his fingers. His dark hair is damp, clinging to his temples in soft waves.

A few stray rose petals are still caught in the strands—remnants of last night, stubborn and beautiful.

His fingers reach my shoulder. A visible shiver runs through me, rippling the water around us.

He pauses, then continues downward, slower now, until his fingers find mine beneath the surface.

They lace together.

Warm. Perfect. Ours.

He looks up.

In the mirror, his eyes meet mine.

"Zyren."

His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but it fills the small space, wrapping around me like the steam.

"Does it still hurt?"

I hold his gaze for a moment, then nod slowly.

"A little. But not much now. The water helps."

He leans closer, resting his chin on my shoulder. In the mirror, I can see his face next to mine—his dark eyes soft and sad and full of something that makes my chest ache.

"I’m sorry."

The words are low against my ear, heavy with regret. "Last night... I couldn’t control myself." He pauses, his gaze dropping to the marks on my skin.

"When I saw you, when I—" Another pause. He swallows.

"Your beauty. It was unbearable."

My heart stutters.

He looks back up at the mirror, meeting my eyes again. His voice drops, a promise wrapped in guilt.

"But from now on, I’ll control myself. So I don’t hurt you again."

"Deniz."

He blinks. Waits.

I turn slightly, just enough to see him directly—not through the glass, not through the reflection.

Just him. Just us.

I give him a soft, genuine smile, the kind that comes from somewhere deep and true.

"With me," I whisper, "you don’t ever need to control yourself."

He goes still. Completely still. His eyes search mine, looking for something—doubt, hesitation, a lie.

He finds nothing. Only truth.

A slow smile spreads across his lips.

Warm. Relieved. Loving.

His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer. I flinch—just a little, just a small reflex.

"Deniz—my stomach."

He loosens instantly, guilt flickering across his face.

"I’m sorry. I forgot."

But he doesn’t pull away completely. Instead, his lips brush my ear, soft as a secret. He presses a kiss there, gentle and lingering.

I shiver, a small laugh escaping me.

"Deniz—it tickles."

He bites gently, just a nibble, and murmurs against my skin, "But it’s very delicious."

I laugh—a real laugh, bright and surprised, echoing off the tile.

The sound feels foreign and wonderful, like something I’ve been saving for moments like this without knowing it.

"Deniz." I catch my breath, still smiling.

"I want to ask you something."

He murmurs against my ear, still nuzzling, still exploring, "What?"

"When did you start planning this?"

He pauses. His nose brushes against my neck, inhaling slowly, savoring my scent. Then he speaks, his voice muffled against my skin.

"Since we started dating."

I blink, pulling back just enough to see his reflection, to search his eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes."

His lips press to my neck—soft, warm, a kiss that says more than words ever could. He meets my eyes in the mirror.

"Do you like it?"

A bright smile spreads across my face, unstoppable.

"Yes. I love it. But..."

He stills. The word hangs in the air between us.

"But?"

I hesitate. My teeth find my lower lip, worrying it. The words feel small, foolish, but they need to be said.

They’ve been pressing against my chest all morning.

"I’m just a little sad."

His brow furrows.

"Why?"

I look down at the water, at our tangled reflections, at the marks on my skin I can only half-remember receiving. My voice drops, quiet and embarrassed.

"Because I drank the wine." I swallow.

"I don’t remember our first night. It’s... bad. It’s gone."

Silence.

The water laps gently against our skin. The steam continues its lazy dance. The world holds its breath.

Then—laughter.

Bright. Warm. Genuine.

Laughter that fills the bathroom, bounces off the tile, wraps around me like another embrace.

I look up, my cheeks blooming red, a pout forming on my lips.

"Why are you laughing?"

His hand lifts from the water, finding my face. Water drips from his fingers as he cups my cheeks gently, turning me to face him directly—no mirror, no reflection, no distance at all.

Just the steam curling between us.

"Zyren." His eyes are soft, warm, full of something that makes my heart race.

"It’s not a big deal."

I blink at him, confused, still pouting.

He leans closer, so close his lips brush mine as he whispers, "I promise. Every night, I’ll remind you. How our first night was."

My eyes widen. The words land somewhere deep in my chest, spreading warmth like the wine I can’t remember.

My cheeks burn hotter. My heart—god, my heart—is pounding so loud I’m sure he can hear it in this deep, quiet bathroom.

He smiles against my lips.

A slow, knowing, loving smile.

And I know he can.