Episode 45
Don’t Apologize for Kissing Me
Panic looms at the edges of Rominy’s mind as he stares at the growing red stain marring the torn sleeve of Elowyn’s gown.
“I’m bleeding?” She glances at her arm. “Ah. That’s unfortunate. All over my new gown.”
Her gown? Who cares about her gown? He can buy her as many new gowns as she thinks she needs.
Before he can respond, their guards hurry them toward a nearby hotel, and Rominy tries not to let the bloodstain expanding on Elowyn’s sleeve upend his waffles.
He barely processes the words his guards exchange with the hotel clerk, and soon he and Elowyn are alone in a guest room while someone fetches a doctor.
“Rominy,” she says softly.
He tears his gaze from the blood to her gray eyes. Why can’t he get enough air? It feels as though he’s suffocating.
She steps toward him, and he struggles to take a breath.
“Rominy.”
“I can’t...I can’t—”
Resting her hand against his chest, she looks into his eyes. “Breathe with me.”
“I—”
“Slowly. In...and out.”
He shakes his head. “I need...I can’t...that man—”
“I’m barely hurt. I will be fine. If it weren’t true, I wouldn’t be able to say it.”
“But—”
“Do you feel my heart beating along with yours? Focus on the rhythm. Feel it slowing. Growing steady. And breathe with me.”
Her heartbeat. It’s there, perfectly in sync with his. “I...I feel it.”
“Good. Now slow breaths. Together.”
With his attention on the beating of their hearts and her steady breathing, he manages to quell his panic and find his head again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he looks down at her.
“You have nothing for which to be sorry.”
“But you got hurt. I should have protected you better. Assigned you more guards. And now you’re bleeding and—”
His words cut off when she slides her hand behind his neck and pulls him into a kiss, and every thought screaming in his head scatters.
She kissed him.
She’s still kissing him.
Stars above.
Of their own accord, his hands slide around her waist, and he tugs her closer. She’s hot everywhere she touches him—hot but not burning. It’s a comforting warmth that banishes the chill gripping him and ignites a fire all his own deep within him.
And she tastes like sparks with a faint smokiness he can’t even begin to understand or explain.
Every inch of him aches for more of this. More of her.
All too soon, though, she pulls back, leaving her hand on his shoulder, and he doesn’t let her go as he looks into her eyes.
“Elowyn,” he breathes.
Is she as breathless as he is?
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. You were—”
Before she can finish, he finds her lips again. The smokiness fills his senses, alongside something else. It’s reminiscent of the waterfall they visited. There’s no other way to describe it. She’s all sparks and smoke and the mist from a waterfall.
It’s intoxicating.
Faint pain teases his lips as he deepens the kiss, but he ignores it. It’s probably from when that man took a swing at him while they were rolling around on the street.
At the moment, Rominy can’t bring himself to care.
Elowyn responds eagerly to his kiss, her fingers digging into his hair as she presses against him, all smoky warmth and refreshing waterfalls. He tugs her even closer, and his heart races for an altogether different reason. This time, her heart is racing, too, completely of its own accord.
Eventually, she pulls back again, and her eyes are round as her chest heaves while they attempt to catch their breaths. He stares into those gray eyes of hers, so perfectly matched to the smoky taste of her kiss.
She kissed him.
And then he kissed her.
And it was the most perfect thing in the world.
“Rominy—”
“You aren’t allowed to apologize for kissing me,” he says. “Ever.”
The most delightful laugh escapes her throat, drawing out his own smile as he winces at the resulting pain.
“Ow. I think that man punched me.”
She laughs again, burying her face against his chest. “I can’t believe you tackled him.”
“He attacked my wife. Of course I tackled him. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll be fine, though my arm is sore. I think the bleeding has slowed.”
He loosens his grip on her so he can see her injured arm where it rests at her side, and bile rises in his throat again.
“Stay with me, my love,” she says as she draws his gaze back to her face.
What did she call him?
Before he can ponder her words, a knock announces the doctor’s arrival, and Rominy drops his hands and lets Elowyn go, clearing his throat as he steps away.
“Your Highness,” the man says. “I’m Dr. Fulton. I was told there was an altercation, and—” His gaze lands on Elowyn’s ears, and he does a double-take. “An elf.”
Something fierce swells within Rominy’s chest, and he steps between Elowyn and the doctor. “She’s my wife.”
“Is she really? Fascinating. And congratulations. Word of your nuptials hasn’t yet reached Wolbourne, Your Highness.
” He shakes his head as if emerging from a daze.
“Forgive me. I’m just so intrigued to meet an elf in person.
I promise your wife is safe under my care, and from the looks of it, Your Highness”—he turns back to Elowyn—“you have a wound that needs my attention.”
“It looks worse than it is, I assure you.” Elowyn sends Rominy a reassuring smile, and he reluctantly moves out of the way.
The doctor adjusts his spectacles as he examines her arm. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that, Your Highness. Tell me what happened?”
“Someone threw a rock at her.” Rominy clenches his jaw to ward off the nausea filling him again.
“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry your welcome to Wolbourne left something to be desired, Your Highness. I promise we’re not all bigoted fools.” Dr. Fulton pokes around briefly, and Elowyn winces.
“Is she all right?” Rominy asks.
“She’ll be just fine, Your Highness, though the amount of blood present makes me think you might need stitches, my dear. I need to get a better look before giving you a full prognosis. Would you prefer to remove the gown, or shall I cut away the sleeve?”
Elowyn’s cheeks turn rosy as she glances at Rominy, and suddenly his heart is racing again.
Perhaps he should leave. Give her some privacy.
His legs refuse to move, though. After what happened, he never wants to let her out of his sight again.
“It’s such a beautiful gown,” she whispers. “I’m sad to destroy it, though I imagine it’s probably beyond saving now.”
“Blood is a bugger to wash out of clothing,” the doctor says as he digs in his black bag.
“Go ahead and cut it,” Elowyn says.
Disappointment flits through Rominy.
Stars above. What is wrong with him?
“Please have the hotel kitchen send up some boiled water, Your Highness,” Dr. Fulton says to Rominy as he leads Elowyn to the bed to sit.
Boiled water? Rominy frowns. He can’t just leave. He won’t. What if Elowyn needs him?
“Go on now,” the doctor says. “Ask one of your men to send for it. I promise you can stay right here by your wife’s side the entire time.”
Elowyn glances up at Rominy and smiles softly, and he rubs the back of his neck as he heads for the door. Is he that transparent?
As if Elowyn needs him, anyway. She’s the bravest person he knows.
When Rominy returns from making his request, the doctor has cut away most of Elowyn’s sleeve, and the nasty gash slicing across her arm turns Rominy’s stomach.
Maybe he shouldn’t look.
The doctor leans back and sighs. “I definitely recommend stitches. Just a few to help stop the bleeding.”
Elowyn frowns and glances from the doctor to Rominy. “Stitches?”
“He’s going to sew the wound closed,” Rominy says, and Elowyn pales.
“Sew it? My skin? With a needle and thread?” Her heart speeds up, and Rominy glances down at his own chest in surprise. Is she afraid?
“I promise you will hardly feel a thing, Your Highness,” Dr. Fulton says.
But she’s shaking her head and inching away from him.
She’s not just scared. She’s terrified. The doctor glances Rominy’s way as if expecting him to do something, but the idea of Elowyn being afraid of anything is so foreign Rominy can barely process what’s happening.
Then she starts speaking Elvish. Rapidly.
Rominy picks out enough words to guess what she’s saying.
Something about healers and life magic and the word barbaric. Tharios is mixed in, as well.
Stars above. This is not the type of doctoring she’s used to.
At all.