Chapter 16
Brivul
Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting warm patterns across the bed. Brivul shifted, testing his muscles. The wound in his side pulled, but the searing agony from days past had dulled to a manageable ache.
“Don’t you dare try to get up.” Mila’s scent reached him before he saw her—jasmine and determination.
“I’ve had worse.”
“Of course you have, mighty warrior.” She crossed the room with a fresh bandage in hand. “Now stay still.”
Her fingers brushed his scales as she checked his wound. His tail twitched at her touch, and he fought down the urge to wrap it around her waist and pull her closer.
“The bleeding’s stopped.”
“Then I can get up.”
“Not yet.” She pressed her palm against his chest, and heat bloomed beneath her touch. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Since when are you a doctor?”
“Since you decided to play hero with those thugs.”
Brivul caught her wrist as she withdrew. Her pulse jumped beneath his thumb. “I’d do it again.”
“I know you would.” She didn’t pull away. “That’s what worries me.”
The morning light caught her face, illuminating the determined set of her jaw along with the spark of intelligence in her eyes.
“You should rest more.” Her voice softened. “Build up your strength.”
“I’ve been resting for four days.”
“And you’ll rest more if I have to sit on you to keep you down.”
His scales rippled at the thought. “That’s not much of a threat.”
A blush crept across her cheeks, but she held his gaze for a moment. She then turned and left him to rest longer.
Later that afternoon, Mila returned with a steaming bowl that filled the room with hints of ginger and herbs. “Here. Ellri’s special recipe.”
Brivul propped himself up against the headboard, his muscles protesting. The spoon trembled in his grip.
“Let me.” Mila sat beside him, her hip brushing his scales. She took the spoon, and the simple act of her feeding him sparked something primal in him.
“I can feed myself.”
“And risk spilling this all over the clean sheets? Not happening.”
The warm broth slid down his throat. His tail curled with pleasure at the taste—or perhaps at her proximity. The scent of jasmine wrapped around him like a blanket.
Each time she leaned forward, her hair brushed his chest. His scales tingled at the contact. He’d faced down pirates and criminals without flinching, but this small human reduced him to a mess of sensations.
“Tea next.” She set down the empty bowl. “And don’t give me that look. You need fluids.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her fingers grazed his as she passed him the cup. The warmth spread through him, and it wasn’t from the tea. How had he survived before her? Before her quiet strength and sharp wit?
“You’re staring.”
“Hard not to.”
Pink colored her cheeks again. “Drink your tea.”
His wound might still ache, but her presence soothed something deeper—a loneliness he hadn’t even recognized until she filled it.
Mila soon twisted her fingers together, a nervous gesture Brivul had come to recognize. The tea cooled in his hands as he watched her internal struggle play across her face.
“I need to tell you something.” Her voice dropped low. “About why Kurg really wanted me dead.”
His scales bristled at the mention of that name. “Tell me.”
“I found evidence. Kurg’s been embezzling from the Council of Seven.”
Brivul set his cup down with a sharp click. “You what?”
“I downloaded proof from his terminal. Communications, transfer records—everything.” She pulled a small data chip from her pocket. “That’s why he wanted to kill me. He suspected I knew something, but I never admitted it.”
Pride swelled in his chest. His clever, brave mate had outmaneuvered a kingpin. “You’ve been carrying this the whole time?”
“Are you angry I didn’t tell you sooner?”
“Angry? This is perfect. The council takes embezzlement seriously. With evidence like this, they’ll arrest him immediately.”
“And then we can get Priscilla out more easily.”
“Exactly.” His mind raced with possibilities. This changed everything. “No guards, no security. Just walk right in and take her.”
“You’re really not mad I kept this from you?”
He caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up. “You survived. You protected yourself and your sister. That’s what matters.”
The tension melted from her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you. Trust isn’t… easy for me.”
“But you’re telling me now.”
Her eyes met his, determination replacing uncertainty. “Yes. I am.”
Silence settled over the room. Brivul watched Mila’s fingers trace patterns on the bedsheet. The data chip sat between them, a tiny thing to hold such power.
“Thank you.” Her voice came soft but steady. “For believing me. For helping me to take down Kurg.”
“He’ll pay for what he did to you.”
“But we need a solid plan first.” She pressed her palm against his bandaged wound. “And you need to heal.”
The warrior in him wanted to protest, to declare himself fit for battle. But the warmth of her touch grounded him, reminding him that rushing in half-healed would only put her at risk.
“A few more days of rest won’t change anything.”
“Exactly.” Her smile carried a hint of victory. “Kurg’s not going anywhere, and neither is Priscilla. We do this right, or we don’t do it at all.”
We. Such a simple word, yet it carried the weight of her trust, her faith in him. After a year of questioning his own judgment, this remarkable woman put her life—and her sister’s—in his hands.
“You’re right.” The admission came easier than he expected. “We plan first. Then we strike.”
Her shoulders relaxed, tension he hadn’t noticed until it disappeared. “Good. Because I’m not letting you out of this bed until that wound closes properly.”
“Is that a promise?”
Pink dusted her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “Don’t push your luck.”
Night crept across the room as Mila adjusted Brivul’s pillows for the tenth time. Her scent wrapped around him and made his scales tingle.
“The pillows are fine.”
“You keep shifting.” She tucked the blanket around him. “Does it still hurt?”
His wound barely registered compared to the ache in his chest whenever she touched him. “I’m a warrior. Pain means nothing.”
“Right. That’s why you winced when I changed the bandage earlier.”
“I did not wince.”
“Of course not. Big strong Niri warriors never wince.” Her fingers traced the edge of his bandage.
Heat rushed through him at her touch. How had this tiny human wormed her way past his defenses? He’d been lost, purposeless. Now everything made sense.
Brivul grabbed her hand. Her pulse raced under his fingers, matching his own thundering heart. Time seemed to stop as she met his gaze.
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate.
“For torturing you with pillow adjustments?”
“For giving me purpose again.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I didn’t—”
“You did.” He tugged her closer, his tail wrapping loosely around her waist. “I was just existing before. Going through the motions. Then you appeared in that market, arguing with a vendor twice your size.”
“He tried to cheat me.”
“You were magnificent.” And she had been—all fire and determination despite her lowered eyes and meek posture. “Still are.”
She ducked her head, but he caught the smile she tried to hide. His chest filled with warmth. His mate. His warrior queen disguised as a humble slave. Every protective instinct in him roared to keep her safe and close.
As the night wore on, the dark shadows under Mila’s eyes betrayed her exhaustion, though she tried to mask it with determination. Her movements had grown slower, less precise as she fussed with his bandages.
“Come here.” Brivul patted the space beside him on the bed. When she hesitated, he added, “You need rest, too.”
She bit her lip, considering. The sight made his skin tingle. Finally, she climbed onto the bed, careful of his injury. As she settled against his chest, his tail wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him.
Her jasmine scent enveloped him, mixing with the herbal tang of healing salves. The weight of her body against his felt right, natural, like she belonged there. His muscles relaxed, tension he hadn’t realized he carried melting away.
“Is this okay?” Her voice came soft, uncertain.
“Perfect.” He stroked her hair, marveling at its silken texture.
Her breathing gradually slowed, deepened. Each exhale ghosted across his scales, sending pleasant shivers through him. Nothing compared to the contentment of this moment.
“Sleep,” he murmured.
She mumbled something unintelligible and nestled closer. His protective instincts purred with satisfaction. This was what he was meant for—not just fighting but protecting. Cherishing.