Chapter 34 The First Lessons #3
“That should help,” she said. “The fever should break by morning.”
Her eyes cut to Kian. “She needs to rest. Remember what I said. This is temporary. It’s her mortality fighting her divinity. Once the balance tips, she’ll be stronger.”
She turned and slipped out the door, leaving behind a faint crackle of energy and the scent of ozone. As soon as she was gone, Kian sagged beside me, the tautness of his frame unraveling all at once. He pressed his forehead to my hand, and his breath came out shaky.
“Hey.” I brushed my thumb against his cheek, coaxing him to look up at me. His eyes were wet, I realized with a shock. “I’m okay.”
Uncertainty and fear raged in his eyes. He straightened. “Stay put. Don’t move.”
I raised a brow. “Kian—”
He was already striding into the kitchen. Cabinet doors opened, water ran. He came back with a glass of water, crouching to press it into my hands with both of his wrapped around mine to steady them.
“Slow sips,” he instructed.
I obeyed, partly because my throat was parched, partly because the frantic way he hovered was too endearing to tease. His eyes tracked every swallow.
“Better?” he asked when the glass was empty.
“Yes, Nurse Ward.”
He glared, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “Don’t make jokes about this. It’s not funny.”
“Sorry. But your fussing is cute.”
He huffed, but then he was up again, muttering about soup. A minute later, the stove hissed to life, and I caught the faint scent of rosemary and thyme. He returned with a steaming mug of broth a minute later. He perched on the edge of the couch, blowing on a spoonful before offering it to me.
I blinked at him. “You’re spoon-feeding me now?”
“Yes,” he stated, though his ears were pink. “Humor me.”
I let him feed me one spoonful, then another, warmth settling into my stomach. His gaze never left my face, every muscle taut with focus.
“Kian,” I murmured between sips, “you’re hovering.”
“Yes.”
“You know you’re being ridiculous, right?”
“Yes,” he repeated, softer. His shoulders drooped a bit. “But I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop.”
My fingers grazed his knuckles, butterflies dancing in my stomach. “Then don’t stop. I kind of like it.”
I took the mug from him after a few more spoonfuls, insisting I could handle the rest. He still watched me with hawk-like intensity. I took a few more sips before setting the mug aside and looking at him fully. Worry etched into every line of his face.
“It’s just a little fever, Kian,” I said, reaching up to brush hair from his eyes. “I’ll be fine by morning.”
He caught my hand in his. “You’ve said that before,” he murmured. “In another life. You said you were fine, that it was just a fever. And then you were gone.”
The pain in his voice made my chest ache. I understood then that this was about every time he’d lost me, every time he’d been helpless to stop it.
I moved closer, cupping his face in both hands and forcing him to meet my eyes. “That was then. This is now.”
He released a shaky breath, leaning into my touch. I kissed him, trying to pour comfort and reassurance into the simple press of lips.
“I’m not her. I’m not any of them.” I brushed my nose against his, smiling at him. “I’m the one who came back to you, Kian. For what it’s worth, I think you’re stuck with me now. No take-backs.”
That earned me the faintest laugh, cracked at the edges. He pressed another kiss to my palm, lingering there.
“You undo me,” he whispered, voice breaking.
The tension in his shoulders eased, the panic fading. I leaned into him, resting my head against his chest. He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close. Exhaustion weighed on me, and I yawned, snuggling closer.
“You should carry me to bed before I fall asleep on you, and you’re stuck here all night,” I murmured against his shirt.
Kian huffed a laugh, fingers stroking through my hair. “Oh? Now I have to carry you? I thought you were fine, and I was being ridiculous.”
“I only said that to make you feel better,” I lied shamelessly, tilting my head up to flash him a grin. I sat up just enough to press the back of my hand dramatically to my forehead. “See? I’m far too weak to even stand. Practically wasting away. You’ll have to carry me.”
He arched his brow. “Is that so?”
“Of course it is,” I said with utmost solemnity, though my smirk gave me away. “Besides, you’re the tall one. Pretty sure it’s an unspoken rule. Tall people are contractually obligated to carry small people like me around. It’s in the social contract.”
He laughed. “Really now? I must have missed that clause.”
“I don’t make the rules,” I shrugged. “I just enforce them. Now carry me before I perish from neglect.”
His whole frame shook with laughter before he bent and scooped me up. I looped my arms around his neck, pressing my face into the side of his throat.
“Who am I to argue with my Queen?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my hair.
I smiled, warmth flooding through me that had nothing to do with fever. “You’re learning. Good boy.”
He chuckled, carrying me toward the bedroom while I nestled against his chest.