“You have always been protective of me.”
“Not like that.” He sighed. “I failed you.”
“How?” My fear vanished in seconds. It should have worried me, that rapid shift of emotion, but knowing the King's reaction was a primal thing that he couldn't control put me at ease. I hadn't been misled. He was under the sway of his dragon, and that wasn't his fault.
“I fell to that bastard's blade! He nearly took you.”
“You didn't know it would paralyze you. And even when you were weakened, you still managed to save me.” I leaned forward and kissed him, just a press of my lips on his, but it was monumental. Because I chose to bestow that kiss. My choice. My power. My Raven. “You were amazing. You fought past his magic. For me. Thank you, Raven.”
As I sat back, the King's expression went a little silly, his grin like that of a child. He reached for me, but then dropped his hand.
“Don't ask anymore.” I took his hand. “I want you to touch me freely.”
“Are you sure?” His smile vanished, and his whole demeanor went grave.
“Yes.” I lifted his hand, turned it over, and laid my cheek in his palm. “I'm not afraid anymore. Not of you.”
“Eliel.” The King leaned in and kissed me, lifting my face to his. His fingers slid through my hair and cupped the back of my head, supporting me as he slowly explored my mouth. No drawing back this time. He moved in with the confidence of my consent. And I met him eagerly, going to my knees to lean my chest against his. My hands slid over his shoulders, and my body hardened, eager for more of what we had shared the night before.
Someone cleared their throat.
Raventar drew away from me slowly, tenderly, and then glared at Vanoak. “What the fuck do you want?”
Sir Vanoak chuckled. “Just to tell you that your tent is the last standing, Your Majesty. Perhaps you might help Eliel into your carriage while we pack it for you?”
Raventar grimaced and stood up. I hurried up to help him when he wobbled, but he held up his hand to ward me off.
“I'm fine.” The King motioned toward his carriage. “Let's get out of their way, my foundling.”
I snatched Raven's tunic and cloak from the ground and went with him, pacing him, focused on his every tremor. If he fell, I wasn't sure I could stop it, but I could cushion him. Thankfully, he remained steady, if slow. We made it into his carriage without any theatrics. Once we were inside, Raven drew the curtains shut and opened his arms. I laid aside his garments and went to him, falling to my knees between his thighs. It was quickly becoming my favorite position.
The King grinned as he drew his head back to look at me. “You stayed to defend me.”
I blinked. What was he talking about? Oh, that. I bit my lip before saying, “I couldn't leave you defenseless.”
“You are stronger than you think, my foundling.” He stroked my hair and pulled a leaf from it. Tossing it aside, he leaned down to kiss me. But then he shuddered and pulled back.
“What is it?” I jerked away to look at him.
“I'm afraid I'm too tired to show you the affection you deserve. It's killing me. You finally give me leave to touch you freely, and I cannot.”
The carriage suddenly moved, startling me. I gasped, but my hands stayed on the King. “Lay down, Raven. You don't have to touch me. I can touch you.”
With a sigh, the Dragon King lay on the wide bench, his knees bent and lower legs angled to hang off the end. I tucked an arm pillow under his head. Then my hands hovered over him, unsure where to land. Images of Bara slammed into my mind, and I shuddered. He had forced me to see to his care in addition to his sexual needs. My daily chores had included brushing his hair, massaging him, and even bathing him. He took joy in demanding the most trivial services from me.
“Eliel?”
I met Raven's worried gaze. “I'm all right. I was just . . . dealing with my past.”
His eyes filled with compassion. “You don't have to do this. I'll be fine soon. You're the one with the real injury. How's your wing, sweetheart?”
My jaw fell as I realized that I had forgotten all about my wing. Then my hands began to tremble.
“Eliel?” The King jerked up into a sitting position. “Tell me, foundling. Confide your pain in me. I will carry it with you.”
“It's not Bara. It's my wing,” I whispered. “A double break isn't good. It could . . . oh, fuck. Raven, I might never fly again.”
“That's not true. I looked at the break when I set it. It's clean. It will heal. It may heal stronger than before.”
