He kissed her before she could move.
She balked at first, almost pulling away, but he grabbed her behind her head and pulled her forward, his teeth dragging against and biting her bottom lip, and he felt her almost collapse into his grasp. She pushed her hips against his again and wrapped her arms around him. Desperate and fighting, he kissed her like she would kill him at any moment. Their lips crashed together again and again. His head spun. She bit his tongue, and he groaned into her mouth. Both his hands pushed behind her neck to bring her closer—
Her hand flew back around his throat. They parted fast, and Dorian’s head slammed into the wall again.
Chest heaving, he swallowed as her lavender gaze blazed through him. But despite the flare of her nostrils and the shortness of her breath, he swore he saw her lips twitching upwards at the corners.
"Do not think this was anything more than my taking care of yourpoorinjured self," she warned him, and he could detect the play in her tone. "And I’m not your love.”
Dorian huffed, daring to smile as he felt his cheeks flushing. “Yes, ma’am,” he bantered, arms bending at his elbows in surrender.
She shoved his chest as she stood, and he winced at the jolt.
"I think you owe me another round for that," he choked.
Reverie bent down to the pool and stuck her hand in the water to wash away whatever was left of Dorian’s release. Her bangs fell over her eyes as she dried her hand with a towel, and she met his eyes again.
"You should clean yourself up," she told him. “I would hate for the rest of the town to see you in such a disheveled state,” she teased.
"This is Dahrkenhill. I'm sure they've seen worse." He leaned back on the bench and wiped himself with the towel.
When he looked back up, he noted the squeeze of her thighs, the blush on her cheeks, and the avoidance of her gaze as she pushed her fur shawl over her shoulders.
"I could help with that," he uttered.
The corner of her lip quirked, and the smoldering jest on her features made him shift. "I'm sure you could," she said. "But you'll have to earn that just as you've earned these people's trust."
She pushed the things back into the bag again, and as she shoved it on her shoulder, intentions of leaving him, Dorian realized something.
"Hey, Rev?"
"Yes, Prince?" she sighed, slight annoyance in her tone.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Could you help me to Dag's? Can't exactly move very much on my own," he admitted.
A small smile spread on her face, and she pushed the bag further up her shoulder. "Corbin left on purpose, didn't he?"
"Definitely," Dorian replied, meeting her eyes.
She shook her head, chuckling under her breath. "Fine. I'll grab new clothes for you. Just don't do anything stupid until I return."
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
DINNER AT DAG'S had been exactly what Dorian needed. The camaraderie and songs. The laughter and smoke. He may have sat in the corner most of the night, hardly able to move, but he was glad to have had Corbin and Reverie seated on the floor by his side. He heard them tell them stories of Reverie's training with Katla and how Katla was pushing her until she puked.
Watching the pair laugh together made his stomach knot. It was weird not being at the center of the room and telling jokes or come-ons to every woman there. He was able to see everything going on in the room from where he sat, and he silently wondered if this was how Nyssa felt when she would stand or sit over to the side in every crowd to watch. The thought of her made his heart hurt, but he shook it from his mind and pushed his attention back to his present.
Hagen had been right. Dag's wife was much prettier than Dorian would have ever guessed, and he had a sneaking suspicion Dag was much more of a romantic than anyone realized.
It wasn't a great crowd at Dag's. Only about ten people. It was cozy enough that by the end of the night, they had all crowded around Dag's sitting room and were passing pipes and smoking herb. With his injured condition, the herb had gone quickly to Dorian's head, and he hardly remembered how he got back to the Temple.
For seven days after the decision, Dorian was forced to stay in his bed. Hagen told them he would give them another two weeks for Dorian to heal before they set off for the Bryn. He thought that would give them time to get there and get things sorted before the next rise of the Dead Moons.
For once, Dorian did as he was told. He rested, knowing he would need all his strength for traveling. Reverie and Corbin tended to him at all hours of the day, and Dorian started to wonder if they were sleeping in the room with him, as every time he would wake up, at least one was in there.
Dorian had taken his time with Reverie as an opportunity to tell her of some of the stories he'd learned had been lies through the last year. He was grateful she actually listened to him and asked questions. Every time he told her of one, he saw the same break in her face that had been in his own.
On the seventh night, Dorian decided he'd had enough of the Temple and had walked with Corbin down to the tavern. He was greeted with claps on his shoulder that made him wince, but the smiles on their faces swelled his chest. The women that leered at him and brushed his arms when they passed had his mind once more wandering.
