Page 141 of Given to the Black King

Quiet.

For the first time since I rode beneath the horns, there is no pain there.

“Worth the wait?”

The answer reaches me through the bond before he says it.

Everything.

His mouth presses to the new bite.

“Worth every night.”

Beyond the door, runners carry his orders through the hold.

Torgan pulls the furs over us. His hand remains on the mark at my throat when I fall asleep.

TORGAN

Iwake with blood dried at the corner of my mouth and Iona asleep over my heart.

For one blind moment I wait for the pain.

Nothing.

My jaw is quiet.

The bond is not.

She lies inside me now. Warm. Heavy with sleep. A faint ache in her thighs. The bite at her throat throbs when she swallows, and I feel the pulse of it in my own skin.

Alive.

My arm tightens around her. The lance cut above my shoulder pulls beneath its fresh bandage.

Her dream breaks. Not enough to wake her. Just a flash of the west wall beneath her feet and my body disappearing under Osk’s men.

Fear hits the bond.

Iona’s fingers close hard against my chest.

“I’m here.”

Her eyes open.

She looks at me, then the room, then presses her palm flat over my sternum as though checking which heartbeat belongs where.

“You were gone.”

“Not now.”

The fear drains from her slowly.

I feel every part of it leave.

She touches the hinge of my jaw. “Still quiet?”

“Yes.”