She studies me. "There's something you're not telling me."
Of course there is.
"I'll tell you," I say carefully, "when you're stronger."
"Promise?"
The word hangs heavy between us.
Promises are not light things for a fae. We're bound by our oaths.
"I promise," I answer.
You won't live long enough to collect it, little elf.
She nods, seeming to accept this. "All right. I'll trust you."
The faith she's placing in me, a fae commander she barely knows, is staggering.
"You shouldn't trust me so easily," I tell her.
"Maybe not." She attempts a wink and closes both eyes instead. "But my instincts are usually good."
Her instincts are catastrophically wrong. If only she knew how fucking wrong she is. How I stood on a hillside not long ago, calculating the cleanest way to end her life.
"There's something about you that feels… safe," she says softly, almost surprised by herself.
Me? Safe? What the fuck?
Before I can respond, she reaches up. Her hand moves toward my face slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want.
I don't pull away.
Her fingers brush my temple, gentle as butterfly wings. "May I?"
"May you what?"
"Give you some relief. You're in pain. I can feel it."
How does she know that? The bond, probably. The same way I can sense her state and well-being.
My chest still burns from the poisoned blade I took days ago.
"You should rest," I protest. "Save your strength."
Her fingers begin to move, tracing small circles at my temples. "Let me do this."
Warmth flows from her touch. I close my eyes before I can stop myself. When was the last time someone touched me like this?
Her hands slide lower, tracing the line of my neck, settling briefly over my chest. The bond flares.
Heat shoots through me. It spreads up my arm, into my chest, and straight to my cock.
Damn it.
The bond sends me an image of Rhianelle's perfect body writhing beneath me as I thrust into her over and over.
My heart begins to pound. I have slit my enemy's throat without my pulse rising. I breathe heavily through my nose and order the erection to retreat.
