Ella pulled her legs back, wrapped the sheets around herself, and whispered, “Do not touch me.” It was ironic, she thought, that the only times he had touched her so far had been out of necessity and for her benefit.
He stilled, but not out of offense. He didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked knowing.
“You needed help,” he said at last.
But her focus snagged on the way his hands had touched her ribs when she collapsed moments before—gentle, like he’d been afraid of breaking her. It made her hate the way she’d just pulled away from him, instinctively rejecting his attempt to check on her injury.
But she knew why.
Before Dravaryn, back in Orchid, she’d spent her entire life surrounded by men who wanted something from her—an audience with her father, political leverage, her hand in marriage years before she’d even considered the idea. One suitor had even mentioned the mating ceremony before giving her his name. They all saw her as a path, a prize, a piece to claim.
She’d had enough of men who thought they could shape her, steer her, own her.
Those days were over.
And when she finally let someone close, his hands hadn’t been so careful. He was the son of a prominent nobleman on her father’s council, someone she’d once trusted.Caelen.
A man with laughter on his lips and a truth she hadn’t wanted to see. He’d never left scars anyone could see, but they were still there, buried beneath every flinch she tried to hide.
Caelen had taught her exactly what happened when she let someone close.
She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
She hadn’t fled her kingdom because of him. That came later. She fled because if she stayed…the kingdom would fall, a fact she’d known with marrow-deep certainty. So she ran, but not from him. From what was coming.
Jakobav’s command interrupted her thoughts.“You’ll stay until you can walk without bleeding,” he said, turning to the hearth. He tossed a log into the embers and stirred the fire to life again.
She swallowed, gulping down air that was too thick with the smell of him. Dangerous and masculine, it wrapped around her like a cloak.
Ella had to move, needed to get away from that smell as it clung too close, suffocating her. She pushed to her feet too fast, and heat surged through her skull, the room threatening to spin.
There was no way she was about to face-plant again.
Ella hated looking weak more than anything in the mortal realm.
Jakobav reached out, fast and unrelenting, his arm locking around her waist to steady her. She gasped, and they both froze. Her heart pounded, too loud and too long, as every instinct screamed: Move. Fight. Flee.
But she didn’t.
His jaw flexed, voice low, dangerously so. “I’ve already had you in my arms three times.” He said each word slowly. “When you were bleeding out, when you couldn’t crawl five steps, and now because you won’tstay down.”
He looked furious like he might do something violent, then he stepped back, eyes like stormglass.
“Next time, I won’t help you.”
Her pulse spiked, and she forced the words past her raw throat and spat them like venom.
“You sound like every man who has ever underestimated me. They all bled for it.”
A beat passed before he said, “Maybe I want to see what it takes to break you.”
Prince Jakobav stared her down.
Ella refused to be the one to break eye contact this time. Finally, he moved first, but instead of leaving, he lingered at her side.
“Stop running,” Jakobav demanded, voice deep and uncompromising.
Ella’s chin snapped up. “I thought you said I wasn’t a prisoner.”
