They returned from the Evil Forest hours later, physically exhausted but spiritually charged. Nguvu's Blue Aura was still humming with residual power, but it was a satisfied, clean power. Amamihe's Indigo Aura felt vital and rich.
They were covered in earth, sweat, and the faint, lingering smell of Iku residue that Amamihe hadn't quite managed to cleanse from their robes.
"I will use the bathhouse first," Nguvu declared, heading for the central ablutions room—a large, ceremonial chamber meant for relaxation after battle or cultivation.
"Wait," Amamihe stopped him just short of the heavy bronze door.
Nguvu turned, towering over her. "Cultivator, I am covered in the decay of a thousand parasitic vines. I require immediate cleansing."
Amamihe raised a hand, her Brown Iris eyes serious. "And I require purification. You merely fought the Nkonde-Ase. I healed the land around it. My Ase needs deep recalibration before I can simply wash off the dirt."
"I do not understand," Nguvu rumbled, flexing his massive deltoids. "A bath is a bath."
"No, Nguvu. For a High Cultivator, a bath is a ritual. Especially after encountering concentrated Iku," she explained. "I need to perform the River of Life rite. I will be channeling clean Ase from my Ocean Gourd to purge the residual entropy. This requires total focus and takes time. If you use the bath before me, the Ase will be tainted by your aggressive Warrior essence."
—'He needs to wait. I sense too much physical heat. It will boil the ritual water.'— Imani stated matter-of-factly from Amamihe's collar.
Nguvu sighed, running a hand over his Spherical afro. He had faced down charging War Elephants with less annoyance than he felt facing this domestic complication.
"How long?" he asked.
"An hour. Perhaps more," Amamihe replied, giving him a tight, apologetic smile. She slipped past him and entered the bathhouse, the bronze door closing with a soft thud.
Nguvu was left alone in the hallway. He could hear the hiss of the water heating and the delicate clinking of ceremonial bowls.
He tried to walk away, to go back to the Western Courtyard for stretching, but the thought of leaving Amamihe—alone and vulnerable, channeling Ase in a ritual bath—felt wrong to his Warrior instincts. He was her sworn protector, even if the arrangement was... Arranged.
He leaned against the cold stone wall directly across from the bathhouse door.
The humidity in the hallway began to rise as steam, smelling faintly of cedar and crushed lilies, escaped through the gaps in the doorframe. Nguvu closed his eyes, his immense body relaxing slightly as the warmth enveloped him.
Then, he heard her voice, low and musical, chanting the words of the rite. The air around the door started to glow with a soft, pulsing Indigo Aura as Amamihe began to channel Ase from her artifact.
Nguvu tried to focus on his breathing, but the sounds were intoxicating. He heard the soft splash of water against porcelain, the gentle murmur of her ritual chants, and the delicate, Ase-focused movements of her body.
The successful joint-mission in the forest had released their professional tension, but it had replaced it with a potent, purely physical attraction. Now, listening to her perform a sacred, private ritual just three feet away, Nguvu's control frayed completely.
He pictured her—the perfect curves of her Bombshell physique, currently slicked with water, illuminated by the light of her Aura. He remembered the feel of her hand on his arm in the forest, guiding him, and the way her lips curved when she called his destruction "magnificent."
A deep, painful spike of Orange Huenergy (Desire) shot through Nguvu's core. It was so intense that his muscles twitched. He immediately suppressed it, forcing his Blue Aura into a hard, cold shell around his body.
—'Your Aura is boiling the humidity. She is going to think you are a pervert. Go stand outside.'—
Nguvu ignored the cat's thought and pressed his forearm against the cool wall, fighting the urge to lean his massive ear against the door.
Yet, he remained. Stuck in the hallway, an exhausted, hyper-muscular pillar of blue-tinged frustration, forced to listen to his irresistible wife perform a purity rite.