“Your eyes are turning white,” I mutter, and those eyes, swimming with royal magic, snap up to mine, sending a jolt straight down my spine.
“My mate is in my hands,” he says simply.
“You’re delusional.”
“And you’re beautiful.” He says it with the same quiet certainty he uses when issuing orders, as if it’s an undeniable fact of the universe. As if the sky is violet, dragons breathe fire, and I am beautiful.
Beauty has never meant a damn thing to me. I’d never even seen myself outside of a reflection in the water or a puddle of rain until he locked me up in Rathe. I liked what I saw, but beauty?
Not sure I understand what that is.
He cocks his head. “You don’t believe me?”
“I mean, I’d fuck me.”
Legend throws his head back with a laugh, and my muscles relax instantly.
He finishes with the cloth and tosses it aside, fingers lingering at the edge of my shirt. “Lift.”
I arch a brow. “Did that sound like an invitation?” It totally can be, but I might need the gash on my neck healed first. Could make a real mess if things get too fun.
“Your ribs,” he reminds me, though his mouth curves. “Let me see.”
Rolling my eyes for show, I help him peel the fabric up. Dark bruises bloom across my side, ugly and impressive. I’m not sure I realized magic could even do that.
Legend’s expression goes thunderous at the sight.
“I will kill them,” he says softly, like he’s discussing the change in tide. “Slowly. Painfully.Publicly.”
“Already unconscious, mighty king. Don’t go pissing off more people because of me. I do that enough on my own without your help.”
“It’s non-negotiable, little monster. They will die, but I hear you. I’ll find other ways to make them regret what they’ve done, and just when they start to feel safe again, I will end them. Slowly.” He drags his knuckles lightly along an unmarked patch of skin as if that can erase what’s beneath.
The touch is featherlight, but everything in me goes tight, breath locking in my chest. His eyes catch mine, and something heavy settles between us. It’s thick, electric. It’s familiar.
The thing that might be between us—that pull I refuse to dignify by calling it anything else—flares, hot and bright, threading from my chest to his. My fingers curl into the sheets to keep from reaching for him first.
“Legend.”
“Yes?” His hand slides higher, palm flattening just beneath my ribs, pinning me with no effort at all.
“This doesn’t feel very ‘rest and recover.’”
“Disagree.” His mouth lowers, brushing the corner of mine. “You relax best when you’re beneath me.”
“Cocky,” I breathe, but my lips are already tilting toward his.
“Confident.” His smile ghosts against my mouth. “Let me take care of you,” he repeats. Something inside me that’s been braced for impact since the moment I arrived in Rathe…eases.
I let him.
He kisses me slow, nothing like the frantic, teeth-and-claw kind of contact we’ve had before. His tongue traces the cut on my lip as if trying to soothe it from the inside. His hand slides to cradle the back of my head, holding me in place like I’m something precious instead of a weapon that keeps accidentally going off. When I sigh into him, the sound is embarrassingly soft, and he swallows it like it’s his favorite thing he’s ever been given.
His weight settles more fully over mine, careful not to crush, but solid enough that I can feel every inch of him. He’s all heat and strength. His pulse beats against me like a wild drum. My fingers find his shoulders, then his hair, dragging him closer.
“Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me if—”
“Shut up,” I mutter, dragging him back down. “If you stop now, I’ll stab you.”
