Chapter 17
When Mirielle woke, Reis was still inside her. She wasn't sure if he had even slept.
He had moved with aching slowness, filling her for hours as Mirielle struggled against him, her body breaking and molding to his.
He seemed to devour her soft whimpers like a starving beast, kissing away her struggles with soft, reverent kisses pressed to trembling skin while his hands stroked gentle comforts along her body.
Quiet praise rumbled from him in low murmurs, steady and reassuring, reminding her that she was safe, that she was beautiful, that he would be gentle for her.
Finally, exhaustion took her and she fell into a deep, comforting sleep.
When she woke, her body was somehow still exhausted.
Every inch of her body throbbed, her skin pinked and rubbed raw from too much touch.
Even the smallest movement sent bright threads of pain stitching through stiff muscles and tender skin.
She felt hot, almost feverish, her mind muddled from overwhelming pain and exhaustion.
A soft moan slipped from her lips as she tried to shift beneath the blankets.
Reis stiffened behind her. Then he bent down and kissed her shoulder.
She looked up at him. Pain laced her features.
He cursed quietly beneath his breath.
"I overdid it," he said, profoundly disappointed in himself. "Don't move, Mirielle, I'll have a bath brought up."
Only then did she realize how dry her mouth felt, thick and cottony, like she had swallowed hot dust.
“Water.” The word was little more than a weak cry.
Reis moved instantly. He grabbed the pitcher from the bedside table and poured water into a cup. Carefully lifting her into the crook of his shoulder, he brought it to her lips.
She took too large a sip and her body rejected it as she fell into a coughing fit, spitting water onto his hands and down her front. Each cough warred through her battered body until tears burned her eyes.
He abandoned it entirely.
He took a sip himself before leaning down to her again. One hand slipped behind her neck, supporting her trembling weight, while the other cradled her jaw as his mouth brushed hers. Cool water trickled slowly into her mouth. Then he massaged her throat, working the muscles so she could swallow.
Mirielle was too exhausted to protest, too drained to do anything other than lie limply in his arms and feel the cool water passing through her parched mouth and soothing her dry throat.
Again he drew back, took another sip, and returned to her, patiently helping her drink until the burning dryness in her throat finally eased. When she could drink from the cup without coughing, Reis allowed himself to breathe again.
He wrapped a towel around himself and went into the hall to call for a bath. Then he covered Mirielle in a soft wool blanket, shielding her from the inn servants as they brought in the wide tub and filled it with hot water. He checked the temperature and sent the servants away.
He returned to her and carefully lifted her and the wool blanket, afraid his own hands were too rough for her sensitive skin. Mirielle let out a little whimper when he moved her.
"Damn it all," he cursed himself. "You're hurting."
Mirielle was too tired to register his words. She only blinked dreamily at his chest.
He carried Mirielle to the tub and stepped in, slowly lowering her in with him until she was settled against him, completely unbothered by the destroyed blanket.
Mirielle let out a groan as hot water rushed to her aching skin. Her muscles relaxed, soothed by the spreading warmth.
He began to wash her. Every movement was done with careful slowness as if he was afraid of hurting her again.
Her head rested against Reis's chest. She closed her eyes and submitted herself to his care.
For a while her entire world was the rise and fall of his breathing, the warm cloth passing gently over her body and the steady sound of his heart.
"Tell me if I hurt you." She heard his words come from his chest rather than his mouth as he brushed wet hair away from her face.
"You're not." Her voice was weak from energy drain.
Reis's jaw tightened in his disbelief.
When the water began to cool, Reis gathered her carefully into his arms, wrapped a towel around her and carried her back to the bed. He settled against the headboard and drew her gently beside him, resting her on the bed against his thigh.
Her dark hair spilled over his leg and across the bed like a river of night. Her half-lidded silver eyes shrouded by long lashes as she tried to blink away the exhaustion.
For a while he simply looked down at her, monitoring every fragile breath that escaped her, his large hand moving slowly through the tangled strands of her hair.
When her silver eyes began to flutter shut, Reis pressed a kiss into her hair and pulled a blanket over her shoulders. She curled unconsciously closer to his warmth and sleep quickly took her.
*
The tavern was already alive and humming when Reis and Mirielle came downstairs a full day later. The hearth fire cracked low and loud as merchants and travelers chattered through the hall.
Sleep and a full day in bed had recovered most of her strength, much to Reis's relief.
Mirielle descended the stairs, her hand lightly tracing the banister as she went. Her unbound hair fell over her shoulders and to her waist in messy waves still wet from a bath. Reis trailed one step behind her like a dark shadow silently daring anyone to approach her.
When Mirielle saw Dane, her footsteps faltered.
Dane was leaning back in his chair near the hearth, heavy boots sprawled out in front of him, sharpening his sword with a whetstone. Then he looked up and saw her, saw the way her footsteps stumbled, the fear that passed across the fragile features of her face. Dane flinched like he'd been struck.
Reis’s hand settled against the small of Mirielle’s back to steady her before she could retreat instinctively toward the stairwell again.
“It’s alright,” he murmured quietly. "He will not harm you."
Dane's eyes lowered. The whetstone he held disappeared and he sheathed his sword.
Mirielle hesitantly allowed Reis to direct her to a chair across from him before taking the seat beside her.
The three of them sat in strained silence. Dane stared stubbornly at the floor, afraid to meet Mirielle's face.
Then Kellan arrived, carrying several pints, grinning like a lunatic.
"Oh no," Dane mumbled.
"Good morning, Mirielle," he said cheerfully, dropping into his chair. "How did you sleep last night?"
"Don't answer that." Reis's voice was hard and laced with warning.
Mirielle looked at Reis in confusion and the hardness left him.
"You wound me. I was only concerned for her." His voice carried no real concern at all. "Two days, Reis, really?”
Mirielle finally caught up with the conversation and turned bright pink. Dane looked up at her and a pained expression crossed his features.
"I'm surprised. I was sure the Blood King would leave bite marks," Kellan teased.
Mirielle flinched.
As if to respond on instinct, Reis rose immediately, his chair retreating smartly across the floor. His towering frame loomed over Kellan's.
"Maybe he did leave bite marks." Kellan's grin deepened.
"Outside, Kellan." Reis's voice was icy soft.
That seemed to deflate Kellan all at once.
"Don't listen to him, Mirielle. He's just jealous he can't get anywhere with that pretty fire-headed lass," Dane said.
"I'm afraid I can't take you up on that offer, Reis, as I have recently discovered pacifism."
Dane scoffed. "Coward."
Reis leaned over the table, his massive frame shadowing Kellan's smaller one.
"Apologize."
Kellan lifted both hands.
"In my defense..."
"Apologize," Reis growled, this time baring his teeth.
The tavern around them had suddenly gone quiet. Several patrons now had a remarkable interest in their own food.
Kellan looked at Mirielle for the first time and his expression soured, the humor erased from his face completely.
"I apologize, Mirielle." His voice had gone quiet. "I was teasing Reis, not you."
Mirielle was startled by the sincerity in his voice.
Reis didn't move. He remained strung taut, looming over Kellan like a monster deciding if it wanted to eat its prey.
Kellan sighed heavily into his pint. "Gods above, you really are in love."
Dane barked a laugh.
Reis did not even blink. "What was your first clue?"
The table went quiet.
Mirielle stared at Reis for a moment, her mouth gaping. Then her expression softened and something in Reis eased.
"We're all doomed," Kellan muttered deeper into his mug.
Reis sat back down and took Mirielle's hand under the table. He felt the tension leave Mirielle's body.
This time Kellan pretended not to notice.
"And for the record, I am not jealous, Dane. I can have any woman from here to Rosthein lining up for me."
"You can't even get Lettie to look at you without threatening you."
"She is merely denying her feelings for me."
"She threw a spoon at your head yesterday."
Kellan shrugged.
"She missed."
"You ducked."
A tiny laugh escaped Mirielle, soft and startled like she hadn't meant to laugh at all.
All three men seemed to ease into their chairs as an invisible tension left the room. Something dangerously close to relief crossed Dane's face, as if he had been bracing for her fear the entire time.
"See, I knew I was charming."