11. Zarek
Zarek
CAN’T FIGHT
Isuck in a breath as Lilias begins to unwind the cloth Agnes wrapped around my chest before we left the little valley sheltering the remains of Dungal. Agnes had clucked over me like a mother hen, just like she used to when I was a kid.
“You always were a fast healer,” she said. “Just replace this every few days for a week, and you’ll be good as new.”
I wanted to say I didn’t think I’d ever been good, but I managed to bite my tongue.
Agnes and the prince didn’t have any reason to help me get Lilias back to her brother, and then on to Ethiria to find allies for Marion.
Still, they’d given us food, supplies, and their two fastest horses.
If that meant I should act civilized while Agnes bandaged me up, well, that was a small price to pay.
And whatever she’d done, it worked. I felt almost normal as we dragged ourselves across Vsenrog.
“Oh!” Lilias gasps as the bandage falls to the ground.
My cock takes an immediate interest in that whisper of breath over her lips. I grit my teeth and try to ignore the dull throb between my legs as Lilias frowns at the fading bruise across my rib cage and the ugly scars beneath.
“That’s nothing,” I say. “You should have seen the other guys.”
I smile, but Lilias frowns, and I decide not to mention that I was tied to a chair when this happened and the worst the other guys got were bloody knuckles. Lilias opens a tin of something, then rubs her fingers across my chest.
My pulse races. Whatever is in that tin has a vaguely floral scent that probably shouldn’t be erotic but is doing nothing to dull the heat and pressure between my legs. It’s bad enough that Lilias has to see my scars, but this is fucking torture. I close my eyes.
“W-Where did you get that?” I stammer as Lilias spreads ointment over my chest.
“From Agnes,” she replies. “It’s not too far off from my recipe, but with less beeswax. Of course, she doesn’t have to worry about quite as much hair when she’s using it on humans.”
I make a sound that can hopefully be taken as agreement, then try to shift my hips back before she can notice what she’s doing to my idiotic body. It seems to take her a very long time to rub that floral goo across my chest. Part of me hopes she’ll never stop.
Fuck. I’m never going to get to sleep now.
There’s a low ripping sound, and I open my eyes to see Lilias tearing one of the thin towels into strips. I keep my mouth shut and vow to leave a few extra coins on the table. She brings one of the strips over, and I raise my arms while she wraps it around my ribs.
“How does that feel?” she asks.
Her hand is still pressed to my chest. She’s so close that I can trace the way the wet strands of her hair cling to the back of her neck. And I really shouldn’t look down, but—
Oh, gods. The thin towel she’s wearing clings to the curve of her chest, leaving very little to my fevered imagination.
“Your heart is racing,” she says, her voice thick.
I meet her gaze. Her cheeks are dark, and she stares up at me with wide eyes and parted lips.
She looks like she’s expecting to be kissed. That’s the way she stared at me in a dozen different town squares, under banners and lanterns, the light catching on her lips as she waited for me to take her, to fill her mouth with my tongue, to taste her on my lips.
Gods fucking damnit. I try to breathe, but my chest feels too tight. I back away from the intensity of those dark eyes, but I’m already against the fucking ceiling. I can’t back up any further.
“Well, a beautiful woman has her hands all over me,” I snap.
And then I kiss her. Or maybe she kisses me, our lips crashing together as the space between us vanishes, and my gods, she feels good.
I drink her in, opening for her as our tongues dance.
Her hands sink into my hair. Her towel is rough against my chest, and her hips rock against mine, sending sweet agony and blinding need racing through me.
Fuck. I pull back while I still can, panting from the ache of being so damn close to her.
“Y-You can get under the covers,” I stammer. “I— I’ll go—”
Away. Somewhere. Some dark corner where I can frantically jack off thinking about the woman who’s far, far too good for me.
Lilias’s face crumbles; suddenly, she looks like she’s going to cry.
“Damn it,” I sigh. “Gods, Princess. It’s not that I don’t want to. You, I mean. It’s not that I don’t want you to—”
I take a deep breath and meet her gaze.
“I’m not even a prince,” I say.
Lilias frowns. “I know.”
“And you, I mean, you’re—” I stammer, trying not to stare at the way the towel pulls tight over the swell of her breasts, revealing the hard outline of her nipples. “And— I’m not,” I finish, in a rough whisper.
Shit. I shut the fuck up before I can sound like even more of an idiot.
She sucks in a breath, then meets my gaze.
“Zarek,” she says, her voice thick and low. “I don’t want to annul our marriage.”
And then she pulls off the towel.
She’s wearing a thin silk shirt that clings to her chest, outlining the hard pebbles of her nipples. I groan as my mind frantically grasps for the meaning behind her words.
Annul our marriage. That’s what I offered her back at the hunting lodge, isn’t it? A way out of this marriage, so she wouldn’t be tied to the false prince of Dungal. The snake of Vsenrog.
And I said our marriage could be annulled because it hasn’t been consummated.
Lilias pulls the thin silk shirt over her head. Lamplight dances over her breasts. I try to speak, but it comes out as another strangled groan. She runs her fingers up the bandage on my chest and across my shoulder.
“You…want to consummate our marriage in a barn?” I manage to gasp.
She smiles at me in a way that makes every part of my body burn.
“The happiest times of my life were in barns,” she says.
She wraps her hand around my neck and sinks her fingers into my hair.
Gods above, I know this is a bad idea, but I can’t for the life of me remember exactly why.
Lilias takes my hand in hers and brings it to her waist. Her skin is warm under my touch.
She pushes my fingers down, until they catch on the hem of her tiny shorts.
“Fuck,” I growl. “It’s hard to argue with you when you keep taking your clothes off.”
“Then don’t argue,” she whispers, her breath hot against my neck.
Godsdamnit.
I can’t fight this anymore.