All the breath left his body and he melted into the mattress. I didn't like admitting it, but I was afraid of his answer.
“Of course.” It was a bit more strangled than it was encouraging, but I needed it. I needed to say I was sorry for my barbed comment in the pantry. More than that, I just needed Declan.
His arm around me somehow tangled us closer and closer until his grasp felt like the only thing keeping me from flying apart. Everywhere we touched, the ache eased. The hurt didn’t disappear but it quieted until a stranger impulse took hold.
I wanted to bite the velvet and steel muscle beneath me. Saliva pooled in my mouth. My grip tightened and Declan whimpered. His hand grew warm against the small of my back. I set my teeth against the skin before me. Declan grunted like I had savaged him.
I jerked away. What was I doing?
His hands scrambled everywhere, plastering me to him.
“You’re fine where you are.”
The heat he radiated contrasted with the cool room, relaxing my abused muscles into compliance. Still, I wouldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t -
The midday sunstruck my face and sparkled the pool of drool I left on Declan’s chest. I had shifted while I slept, just moving directly on top of him instead. It shouldn’t have been comfortable. My joints should have been screaming, stiff, angry, but it felt like the best sleep of my life.
I sucked the unflattering drool back into my mouth. “Sorry,” I whispered, because he was awake. I turned my head to peek out from my curls.
He batted those long lashes. This close, his tongue poking out to lick his lips mesmerized me.
“You never have to apologize for taking what you need. Did you sleep well?”
I motioned to the wetness on his chest. “I’m not usually a drooler.”
Him levering up to sitting brought me against the iron rod pressed between my splayed legs. I couldn’t swallow hard enough not to notice how Declan’s pupils consumed his blue irises. This was fine. Lots of guys hadmorning wood. It didn’t mean anything. Even if it made me a bit desperate and stirred feelings I thought my illness had stolen away for good.
His whole mate thing had cinched us closer than ever and I had more and more trouble hiding from him. I shook with the longing not to hide, even while I feared his reaction. This morning wasn't the worst my illness continually swung at me, but it was more than anyone had ever seen. I searched his face for horror, anger, or worse–pity.
“Sorry.”
He quirked up one side of his mouth; the move so familiar it felt like coming home. “For what?”
For the mess I made. For having a body that wouldn't cooperate. For making him clean it all up. For keeping secrets from him.
I settled on an easier truth. “For saying you're too happy all the time.”
That was as close as I would come to addressing my illness without losing him. If I said it out loud to him, that's all I would become. Wasn’t it proof enough that even after that glorious nap, I still felt like someone had tossed me in a ditch? I hadn't told Evie and Maggie for the same reason. As soon as my Aunt found out, I became a burden and she withdrew. I would die if Declan did the same.
“I didn’t know it bothered you.”
My heart broke a little as pain pulsed in my left hand,my knee. “It doesn’t. I would have to fight to be that most days. You don’t need someone cranky like me ruining your life.”
Surely, he understood becoming mates was impossible without me having to spell it out. His face sobered into something close to serious but he relaxed his body and I found I didn’t want to move. Now we were definitely talking about being more than friends, even if neither of us would say it.
“I like you the way you are. I wouldn’t have hung around you for so long if I didn’t.”
“That’s not true, Declan. You can be infinitely nice. You mucked out Evie’s horse stalls for an entire month when she was sick, when she could have just gotten a servant to do it.”
The straight lines of his face were dead serious. “What if they didn’t take proper care of Greg?”
“He’s a horse,” I said.
Wait… was I comparing myself to a horse?
“You’re acting like it’s a burden to cherish the things I care about,” his tone grew a touch exasperated. He wouldn’t even get angry about this. My temper boiled at the sun setting.
“It’s just a lot of responsibility when…” What in the seven hells was I trying to say? “...when they…” What was the grossest horse disease I had ever heard a stable boy talk about in the kitchens? “...get rain rot.”
