“Easy there, El.”
Kael.
The sound of his voice floods my senses, grounding and overwhelming all at once. I force my eyes open, blinking against the blurry haze until his face comes into view—broad and unyielding, framed by those waves of chocolate-brown hair. His scent—earthy and warm, oakmoss rich and heady—anchors me, even as warmth blooms in my core, betraying me entirely.Traitorous fucking body.
I realize I’m draped across his arms, cradled like a child, his firm grip keeping me steady in the saddle. My shoulder is pressed to hischest plate, and, Gods help me, my ass is planted squarely in his lap. I shouldn’t feel this. But I’m not fucking blind—I can see all six feet four inches of his muscled warrior body. His gaze meets mine, vivid blue and entirely too aware, as if he can hear the riot of indecent thoughts clashing inside me. That smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth only makes it worse.
Mortification floods me, until it’s swallowed by the memories.
Duskprowlers. Screams. Blades. Claws. Blinding light.
My blinding light.
“Wh—What did I do?” The words come out hoarse, barely more than a whisper. I’m not sure what I’m asking exactly—what I said, what I felt, or what the hell just happened—but the question feels like a reasonable catch-all for, well...everything.
Kael’s voice is steady, quiet enough to be intimate but firm enough to make it clear he’s not uncertain.
“Your magic won the battle against the binding spell. It broke free, momentarily... we think.”
We.
Oh, flaming Stars.
I jolt upright, twisting awkwardly to take stock of the others. I’m perched sideways on the mare now, Kael’s hand steadying me as my eyes dart across the group. Ronyn rides just ahead, his bow slung lazily across his back, Seren in front of him, her expression soft with relief, while Therion lingers further off, stoic as ever.
Ronyn catches my gaze, his grin widening in that maddeningly smug way of his. Innuendo practically oozes from the smirk.Bastard.
But they’re okay. All of them. Relief crashes over me like a tidal wave, my chest loosening for the first time since I woke.
Kael interrupts my moment of reprieve, his tone clipped and leaving no room for argument.
“I need to check your wound.”
“I’ll do it,” I start, lifting my chin, already trying to maneuver myself. “I just need to sit properly so I don’t?—”
Before I can finish, Kael moves. His hands slide beneath the backs of my thighs, lifting me with effortless strength. He shifts mein the saddle in one smooth motion, spreading my legs and guiding them to either side of the horse’s neck.
“Happy to oblige,” he says, his voice infuriatingly casual.
His hands linger on my thighs, firm and unyielding, the heat of his palms burning through the thin fabric of my trousers. The intimacy of the motion—the control, the precision—sends a fresh wave of heat rushing to my face. This man is impossible. Impossibly alluring. And he fucking knows it.
“Was that entirely necessary?” I bite out, breath catching as I scramble for composure.
Kael leans closer, his voice laced with intent. “It wasn’t necessary, no. I justwantedto do it.”
The words hit me like a spark, igniting something I don’t dare name. I open my mouth to retort, but the words die on my tongue as his hands move to my injured leg, fingers brushing near the torn fabric with care I didn’t expect.
Out of the corner of my eye, Ronyn shifts his weight, craning his neck back to look at me. “You good, El?” he asks, his grin softening slightly, though the teasing glint in his eye never quite fades. “Can’t have the savior of the realms unable to do the saving, can we?”
“Keep your eyes forward, Ronyn,” Kael snaps, his voice low and laced with warning.
Ronyn raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin only widening. “Touchy. Noted.” He turns back to Seren, muttering something that makes her stifle a laugh.
Kael’s focus, however, doesn’t waver. His fingers brush the edges of my wound. The earlier teasing vanishes from his face, replaced by quiet concern.
“It’s infected,” he mutters, his jaw tightening. “We’ll need to treat this before it gets much worse.”
I jerk away from the wound. Yellow discharge seeps from it, the torn flesh is jagged and inflamed, and it is most definitely infected. Kael pokes at the outskirts of the wound, and the earlier teasing drains from his face, and is replaced with concern.
