33. Chapter Thirty-Three
Zyon sits on his bathroom vanity because it puts his wound at the right height for me to treat it. He watches me intently as I set everything up.
I set all the needed creams on the counter and arrange everything else that might help, bracing myself for what I’m about to see. “Hold still.”
“Yes, my lady.”
I grin and glance up to meet his eyes at the way he says the title as I peel back the bandage and stare at the large, stitched up wound that is spread from his hips to right below his navel.
It takes me a few seconds to recover, even though it’s not the worst wound I’ve seen.
I turn away from him and pretend I need something across the room to manage the flash backs of him cut open and dying.
He slips his hand in mine and tugs me back when I only stand there recalling how I didn't know how to keep his organs inside. "Are you okay?"
I blink a few times to bring myself fully back to the present. "Zyon, the ladder was left out because of me. Your wounds are because of me. I'm so sorry."
"While it was foolish for you to go over the wall, you did not gut me like salmon. If it's anyone's fault, it's Lazzus's. All of this is."
"It was careless of me."
"Yes, it was. Don't put yourself in danger like that again. If anything, that's what I was upset about. You being in danger, and while the ladder by the wall wasn't the wisest choice you ever made, I was gutted because of an amateur fighting mistake that I'd rather not discuss."
I return to picking up the supplies. "You're admitting you made a mistake?"
"To make you feel better, I will lower my pride, but all I said is truth. Take it from your mind, and you won't find me complaining that my injuries got you this close to me or that it will probably lead to more time in bed with you."
"Yes, more days of talking and no sex."
"There's kissing. That's enough for now," he says.
He's frustrating, and I wonder if he's attracted to me at all. Can a man have that much restraint with a woman he's attracted to that he can spend time in bed with her for weeks and not push for sex. He seemed so eager at first, but that changed abruptly for some reason I can't figure out.
The first ointment I use soothes the angry redness forming around the stitching, and the second will prevent infection.
I pat them on and go slower when he grimaces. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I apply a third that will promote rapid healing and minimize scarring before bandaging him back up.
He locks me between his knees and brushes back my hair. “You’re more skilled than any of my healers.”
“That’s highly doubtful."
"Your remedies always work far better than theirs, and you aren’t even a healer." He peppers kisses on my neck.
I squeeze my legs together to stop the throbbing he won't help me soothe. “You learn things by working around them, and I can’t take full credit for this one. Ivelle recommended what to use for you, and she is a healer. She taught me most of what I know and then helped me get into the Blood Guild.”
“I should employ you both when this is done and your brother is healed.”
I toss his old bandages in the trash. “Employ me?”
“It’s an excuse to keep you close.”
“You only have to ask for that.” I suddenly can’t look at him as my cheeks warm.
“Really?”
“Lazzus said you don’t have a secret wife anywhere.”
“The position is open then. Would you be interested in filling that one?” He lifts my chin. “I’d bring you great happiness all your days.”
“First of all, is that what you consider a proposal? Second, you may not want to see me happy by our tenth anniversary.”
“Impossible. Let’s have a ball to announce our engagement.”
“We can't have a ball, and we're not engaged."
“Why should we not have a ball or get engaged?”
“Because we have a curse to break, and it's unclear if you really are attracted to me. You only seem mean, torturing me like you will let me climax but stop when I've almost reached it. It's heinous."
He pulls me closer by grabbing my ass. “We will break the curse just fine after we have the ball.” He kisses me before I can reply and moves down my neck as he hops off the counter and backs me to the wall to finish the kiss.
I’m breathless and aching when he’s done using nothing more than lips and tongue.
My fingers move through his hair, and I gasp as he lowers my tights so his mouth can move between my legs.
"This is the sweetest taste, more than anything ever brought to my table." He kisses each of my thighs and licks down my clit. "Delicious."
He’s skilled in the way he sucks and circles with his tongue.
My knees buckle, my palm smacks the wall, and I moan.
I clench so hard around his teasing tongue, but murderous thoughts run through my head when he pulls back.
He plays with me several times, letting me almost release until I am nearly sliding to the floor to die.
“Please let me finish. Damn it, Zyon, you cruel king!”
He laughs and returns to his work of turning me into a puddle.
My body is throbbing with need at how close to the edge he brings me.
He pinches my nipple and rolls it between his fingers.
His other hand circles my clit while his tongue fucks me in ways I didn't know were possible. The angles and pressures he uses seem wonderfully inhumane. When I unravel, I scream so loud the castle may give him a week’s headache for the disturbance.
My eyes roll back, my lids flutter, and I convulse for minutes or years. There’s no way to tell as I become enraptured in something pulsing through my entire body. He keeps my pleasure going, and when he can tell I’m spent, he takes me there three more times before carrying me to bed.
He kisses me harshly, bruising my lips and bringing me to another orgasm. While I thrash through the bliss, he grabs my chin. "Never have I wanted anyone more. Never."
We stay in bed for the next few days as he recovers, and I wake him up one morning to return the favor of making him come with my mouth and hands.
It’s something we do back and forth a few times, and several times we’re so close to giving in completely.
My body is constantly alive around him. The emotional intimacy of being so close to him and baring our souls transcends the physical.
On our fifth day in bed, he decides it’s been long enough and gets up to take a shower.
He walks out of the bathroom with his shirt off and his black pants hanging low on his hips.
The wound is barely visible, and I owe Ivelle for how excellent her cream selections have left him with hardly any scarring.
I take a moment to appreciate the view. He moves like a beautiful predator with swift, confident strides.
“We should get back to practicing for the mountain. Your healing skills are far superior to any I have ever experienced.”
I lose interest in his perfect chest and roll back over in bed and groan. “Can I stay in bed today?”
“Are you ill?" Zyon leans over and places his hand on my forehead. “You feel fine.”
“There are other ways to be ill than a fever, but no, I’m not ill. Just let me sleep in a little longer, and then I’ll join you in the cave this afternoon.”
He clearly thinks I’m being ridiculous but agrees after we eat breakfast. He can think I’m lazy all he wants because the real reason I insisted on staying was to get him out of his room.
Guards stay at his door at all times, and I don’t want them reporting to him I returned.
Once I’m sure he’s gone, I head straight for his closet and through the door in the back.
Before heading into the long chamber, I put the clothes back together, so he won’t realize what I’ve done if he returns before I make it out.
The weight of the pull makes it difficult to continue, but I push through to reach the object that has eluded me for months.
The hallway is empty and endless. It has no doors or windows, which probably makes it seem narrower than it really is, but it constricts more and more until I have to slide sideways.
The growing intensity of the pull keeps me going.
There’s an extremely thin door that looks like maybe only Aldric and Morvin could fit through.
I turn the silver knob to reveal what appears to be a closet.
It’s full of cloaks, coats, and shirts of all colors.
I wiggle through the opening, and it takes a lot of effort to squeeze inside.
The pull is pounding into my skull and demanding I get to the object.
I push against the opening with significant effort but finally tumble into the room.
My hand goes straight for the pure white cloak that rests in the middle of several blue ones.
There’s nothing fancy that makes it stand out from any of the others, but it is the one I’ve needed.
Once the cloak is in my possession, the overwhelming tug stops, but I don’t have a bag to hide it in.
I squeeze through the opening, but it takes a lot more wiggling since I don’t have an open space to pop into.
Relief floods me when I make it to a wide enough spot to walk normally.
It’s doubtful Zyon has ever been in that closet with his big muscles.
Maybe when he was a child, he could have.
I slowly open the door back into his closet and close it behind me before stepping out of his clothes. Luckily, he isn’t changing outfits when I emerge, but voices stop me at the slightly cracked door.
“Why did you bury the flowers?” Maximo is the first voice I hear, and I peek out of the closet to confirm he’s standing in front of Zyon with a yellow paper and black quill.
Zyon takes both objects from the deer man and writes something down. “Why do you care?”
“Because it’s a sign, you need to get serious about giving her the key. Do you love her?”
“If I loved her, it would be a good reason not to give her the key, wouldn’t it?”
I crush the cloak in my fists to calm and prevent myself from leaping out and demanding all he knows about the key.