As if I’d had a choice. As if I’d known.
Darius tracked their movements, his body coiled tight, ready to launch back into the fight.
I braced my hands on his shoulders. “Sit before you fall down.”
His face was a mess—bruised and already swelling toward a black eye, an ugly mark on his chin, his lip cracked and bleeding.
“I’m fine.”
“Darius, please.”
He wobbled, then sat down, his legs stretched out in front of him. He panted hard as if trying to not pass out. His face was flushed.
I snatched a cloth from the nearest chest and knelt beside him, dabbing at the blood dripping down his lip. My fingers trembled. When had my hands started shaking?
“Stop,” he muttered. “It hurts.”
I yanked my hand back. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Where doesn’t it hurt?”
He lifted his palm and pointed to his wrist. “Here.”
I cradled his wrist in my hands, staring at the vulnerable stretch of skin. The veins. The faint bruises. The steady thrum of his pulse.
I shouldn't. This was too soft. Too revealing.
I brought his wrist to my lips anyway, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin where his pulse beat steady and warm. He tensed beneath my touch, a sharp intake of breath escaping him.
Relief washed over me. He was alive, he was here, he was letting me take care of him.
"Where else doesn't it hurt?"
His silver eyes held mine, something raw flickering in their depths. He pointed to his forehead. “This doesn’t hurt too bad.”
I leaned in and kissed his forehead, breathing him in. Smoke and blood and something underneath that was just him.
His eyes fluttered closed. A low sound escaped his throat—not quite a groan, but close.
He wanted this. Wanted me.
The realization sent heat curling through my belly.
He pointed to his other cheek. “Here.”
I kissed his cheek, letting my lips linger. My heart felt too large for my ribs, pressing against bone.
He touched his lips. “This.”
I started to close the distance between us, but something warm and wet smeared against my skin. I pulled back, my stomach dropping. “It’s bleeding.”
“I don’t care.”
Neither did I. Not anymore.
I kissed him on the lips, tasting copper and heat. Not stolen this time. Given freely. His hand came up to cradle the back of my head, and I melted into him—this demon who had fought for me, bled for me, looked at me like I was worth protecting.
Like I was his.
Soft footsteps approached from behind me. I jerked back from Darius, heat flooding my cheeks. I glanced over my shoulder and found Grump standing there, his head bowed.
