“I hear you, you idiot. Now get up before your wound reopens and I have to carry you back.”
She grabbed the front of my shirt and hauled me to my feet. Then closer. Enough that her scent flooded my senses. “You’re an idiot.”
“That has been established.”
“A stubborn, self-righteous, duty-obsessed idiot who knelt in the mud with an open wound because he heard about a sparring partner and needed to grovel.”
“Well, you don’t have to put it that way.”
“This doesn’t mean everything is back to how it was.”
“I understand.”
She grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked me down to her mouth.
The kiss hit landed with every fight we had ever thrown at each other, packed into one brutal clash. Her lips crushed mine with raw fury, hot enough to scorch through the haze of pain throbbing in my chest.
My hands clamped onto her waist, hauling her body flush against me. The wound there ripped open wider, fresh blood soaking through the fabric, but I shoved the agony aside. I had ignored every damn warning since the day this woman crashed into my life, and I would not stop now.
“Your chest,” she said against my lips.
“I don’t care.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Then I’ll bleed.”
She let out a sound, part bitter laugh and part pure frustration, then slammed her mouth back onto mine then yanked my shirt over my head and her eyes found the wound. Her fingers traced the edge.
“I did this.”
“You did what you had to.” I covered her hand with mine, pressing her palm flat against the scar. “You saved us. This wound is the price, and I’d pay it again.”
Her eyes glistened. I kissed her before the tears could fall.
I went back to my knees. Different reason this time.
My mate was standing against a tree with her stomach round with my children and nothing short of death was pulling me away.
My mouth found her inner thigh. She swore, her hands flying to my hair, fingers gripping hard enough to sting. I kissed higher. Tracing the path with my tongue until I reached the center of her, already wet and swollen.
“Please,Your Majesty,” she breathed, and the sound she made was inhuman.
I had no right to this. But she was giving it anyway, her hips tilting toward my mouth, her fingers tangled in my hair. My tongue found her clit and she bucked. I gripped her hips, held her steady, and worked her with long strokes followed by focused pressure, building her to the edge and pulling back until her thighs trembled.
“Lucian, if you don’t let me come, I swear to God...”
“Your Majesty,” I corrected, and gave her what she wanted.
I sealed my mouth over her and sucked, two fingers sliding inside, curling against the spot that made her scream. Her walls clenched and the orgasm hit with a force I felt through the bond, pulsing between us until my own vision blurred.
She sagged against the tree. I rose from my knees, the wound protesting violently, blood soaking through the bandage and smearing against her bare skin as I pressed against her.
“You’re bleeding everywhere,” she said, dazed.
“I told you. I’ll bleed.”
I pulled her again to a kiss.
