“It’s fine—”
“You should have told me.” He tilted my head back, his fingers firm but careful as he dabbed at my throat with the hot cloth. The warmth seeped into my skin, from his fingers and the fabric. “Cursed blade, Rubi! Why didn’t you say anything? We need to take care of thisnow.”
“I’m fine,” I murmured, though my breath hitched. “I’d feel it by now if I’d been poisoned.”
Blake didn’t look convinced. His gaze stayed locked on the wound before he smoothed the ointment over my skin. His fingers barely brushed my throat, but it was enough to send my pulse skittering wildly.
“Why the hell didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he sounded hurt.
“It’s fine,” I said, my brow furrowed. “It’s not painful now.”
His nostrils flared. “You could’ve died, Rubi.” His voice was angry. Furious even. “How in the Kingdom of Sky did you get the demon off of you?” he asked, tone low.
I hesitated. “By singing.”
Blake’s hands stilled. “Your magic, you mean.”
“I can’t control it,” I admitted. “And I was exhausted. If you and your rebels hadn’t come when you did…”
I shuddered.
I’d almost died. So had Yvonne and Poppy. And so many peoplediddie. The attack had been chaos, blood and screams and magic burning through the air. So much death. My hands trembled before I could stop them.
Blake caught the movement, then deliberately let a wicked little smile curl at the edge of his mouth. That damned dimple appeared. “I didn’t know you were so handy with a whip.” His gaze flicked to mine, teasingly. “Though I prefer metal restraints in bed.”
My breath settled.
He was flirting with me. My heart slammed against my ribs even as I realized what he was doing. He’d seen my fear, the way it curled around me like cold fingers, and now he was distracting me just like he’d done with Poppy.
It was working.
“Of course you like chains, metal mage.” I rolled my eyes, shoving down the heat in my chest. “I’m a ribbon dancer. I’m good with whips.”
“I know,” he said, his voice quiet. “I think we finally discovered your weapon of choice.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, eyes darting up to look at where he was still tending to the bite on my throat. His breath fluttered over my skin and I gripped the chair beneath me like it might keep me upright.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” he muttered, still in that same dreamily soft voice. Almost like he was talking to himself. “After watching you dance the other night—and tonight with the whip, with your ribbons. You truly are a songbird,” he breathed, turning his head slightly. His lips nearly touched the skin of my cheek. “Ever since that first night, I’ve feltcalledto you.”
My heart pounded, my mind reeled, trying to piece together everything, but his words tangled with the air between us, shifting something deep inside me. I was still struggling to come to terms with it all.
Our faces were so close, the space between us barely more than a breath. The air shifted, thickening.
Blake didn’t move. Neither did I.
But I felt the tension in the way his breath ghosted over my lips. His fingers still rested against my chin, his thumb barely grazing my skin, as if he wasn’t sure whether to let go or hold on tighter.
My pulse pounded. The warmth of him, the intensity in his gaze—
I pulled away, clearing my throat. “I should go back, to the palace. We should—I mean, I’m exhausted and—”
“You’ll stay here,” he said. No room for an argument or discussion.
There was a part of me that demanded I be angry with him, but my body was barely able to breathe. I couldn’t think of walking.
“I don’t want to intrude on Yvonne,” I whispered.
He shook his head running a hand through his hair. Blake stretched his hand out toward me, exhaustion seeped into the very marrow of his bones.
