"Stop, stop!" Zara cried, shielding her face as icy droplets pelted her skin. "It's freezing."
Nathaniel ignored her pleas, his grip steady as he held the spray over her. With his other hand, he twisted the faucet, letting the tub fill. The water quickly swirled around her ankles, climbing higher.
Zara gasped and tried to climb out.
"You are not going anywhere until you've sobered up," he growled, pressing her shoulder firmly back down, forcing her to sit.
"It's too cold," she whimpered, her lips quivering, the feverish heat inside her draining away under the relentless chill.
"Are you sober now?" he asked.
Her head bobbed frantically. "Yes—yes, I am. Please, stop this… this torture." She hugged herself, trembling violently.
A pang of guilt stabbed through him. He wasn't punishing her—he was punishing himself, forcing his own heart to bleed for her sake.
