Steam curled thick from the surface of the recessed marble pool of Phei's bathroom while bergamot and vetiver threaded through the air like incense in a temple consecrated to a single occupant.
Hidden spouts poured an endless cascade of water tuned to the exact temperature of penance while low cello notes drifted from the vents—rich, patient, funereal—filling the vast bathroom like a requiem for anyone foolish enough to think they could ever possess what rested here.
Phei reclined against the far obsidian lip with his shoulders breaking the surface and his arms spread wide in imperial laziness while dark hair clung damp to the stone behind him. His amethyst eyes stayed closed and his mouth hung slightly open as he breathed slow and unhurried, the living portrait of a Cosmic Dragon fresh from breaking a vampire progenitor and now collecting what was owed.
