“You’re still in pain.”
“I can’t even focus on it completely.” He struggles through the words. “The alcohol in Bastos really fucks with your mind.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to suffer anymore.” I step closer, holding my hands out, palms facing him. “Let me heal you.”
He watches me a bit longer, then exhales and leans back in the chair, giving me access. When he nods, I inch closer, standing between his spread legs. I unbutton his tunic completely and carefully remove it. My fingers hover over the ink stretched across his skin. His arm is still swollen, the lines red and raised, the fresh ink gleaming in the dim candlelight.
Gently, I press my hands against his shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his body tenses beneath my touch. I close my eyes and let my magic pulse outward, coaxing the pain away, easing the sting of the needle’s work.
For a moment, I’m afraid that my magic will force the ink out of his body, so I adjust, aiming my healing powers toward the inflammation without drawing out the artwork.
Dante lets out a slow breath, muscles relaxing as the worst of the pain fades.
“Talk to me,” I say softly. “What happened?”
He huffs a tired laugh, shaking his head. “I thought they were going to make me sword fight. Like in Podrosa.”
I smirk. “That, at least, you would’ve been prepared for.”
He grunts. “Instead, they dragged me into town. Into some loud, crowded pub. There were people everywhere—drinking, shouting, hands on me every time I turned around.” His jaw tightens slightly. “The queens kept making me drink. More and more. Concoctions I’ve nevertasted before. I was starting to lose focus.”
I keep my hands moving, my magic sinking deeper, soothing the raw edges of his flesh. “And then?”
“They led me to a back room,” he says, voice rough. “I thought—” He hesitates, dragging his free hand down his face. “There was a raised cot. I didn’t know what it was for. I thought maybe they were going to make me… participate in their kind of partying.”
I swallow because I had the same fear.
His eyes flick to mine. “The queens wouldn’t tell me what was happening. I didn’t know what to expect. I was checking the room for the quickest exit. Looking for something I could use as a weapon because Sir Donovan still had my falchion. And then, a man came out of the back room.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Oh, no.”
“He was a big guy. Wide, I mean. About a half a head shorter than me, but arms like Mylo’s. And for a minute, all I could think was…fuck.”
A laugh bursts free from my lips. My mind can’t help but conjure the image of Dante—drunk, brooding, and entirely out of his element—coming face to face with a man like that and not knowing what was expected.
“He told me to lie down—”
My laughter gets louder, and I have to hold my stomach.
Dante tries to glare at me, but I see the flicker of reluctant amusement in his eyes. “Then he took the needles out, and I spotted the ink. That’s when it started to make sense.”
I shake my head, finally composing myself as I examine the tattoo more closely. “So you chose this.”
His expression shifts, something raw and unguarded slipping through the exhaustion in his eyes. “Because of you,” he murmurs.
The words settle deep in my chest, making my heart stutter.
“What do you mean?” I think I know, but for some reason, I need to hear him say it.
“They’re peonies.” His eyes are locked with mine. “They remind me of you.”
I let out a shuddered breath.
“Not just because of our last night in Hedera, but that night at my manor. The first time we… made love.” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “After you left, the next morning, I went outside to watch you ride off. All the peony bushes around the manor were in full bloom, the scent completely surrounding me.” He glances at his tattoo. “Now I have you with me wherever I go.”
My heart thrums. I find it hard to breathe. “It’s… I can’t even begin to describe how this makes me feel.”
He raises his free hand and softly caresses my cheek. Desire threads through my blood.
