I carried her to our bedroom, cradling her in my arms, and laid her gently on the bed. As I looked at her unconscious face, a flicker of doubt crossed my mind: Did I do the right thing? I brushed the hair from her face, then solidified my resolve. "Yes," I murmured to myself, "I did exactly the right thing."
Elena was still unconscious. I could have taken what I wanted from her then, satisfied my desires in that moment. But there was a different kind of pleasure I sought – the thrill of shattering her composure when she was fully aware. Asleep, she looked so innocent, so vulnerable.
I began to tend to her, soaking cloths in water and gently pressing them to her forehead to bring down her fever. Slowly, carefully, I removed her clothes, replacing them with the cool, damp compresses. Then, I pulled a shirt from my wardrobe and slipped it onto her. After a quick shower, I lay down beside her, pulling her close, and slept.