Silence. The only sound she heard were the chirping of birds and the rustling of the
wind.
Then he blinked his eyes slowly and averted them. “I wouldn’t have believed you
were capable of kindness before. The Creator must be playing a cruel joke, because
now I see myself believing you.” He said in a voice so low, Danika strained to hear
him. And as the words left his mouth, the hurt in her heart disappeared.
Trust. No matter how little the trust was, she felt jittery on the insides because she
knew that trust was hardest for him to give. And now, she had earned just a little of it.
She would cherish that bit for eternity.
“I’m thirsty,” he rasped.
“I’ll get you water, Master.” She got up from her chair, took one of his long
wooden cups, and walked out of his chambers. She didn’t have to go far because the
courtyard nestled the best spring water just a few feet from the royal quarters. She
bent down and filled her cup.
When she returned to his chambers, he hadn’t moved since she left. She locked the
door and walked to him. She sat on the bed and waited patiently while he sat up a bit
with his back resting on the headboard. He struggled with the movement, but Danika
pretended not to notice.
Any progress she had made with her master would turn to dust if she ever tried to
make him seem weak by offering to help him sit up.
Finally, in a better position, she offered the king the wooden cup, and he took it in
from her. He downed the content slowly until nothing remained. Danika took the cup
from him and dropped it on the ground. Her eyes scrutinized him as she made sure
that he was alright. She wanted to place her hand on him to make sure his temperature
was okay. She bit her lips and decided not to tempt the devil by putting her hand on
the king without permission.
“What is it?” he asked reluctantly.
“May I check y-your temperature? Have to make sure,” she trailed off.
His eyebrow shot up. “You may.” He said, surprising her.
She leaned forward and placed her palm on his forehead. A feeling of relief rushed
through her; his fever had broken. She slid the back of her palm down his neck and
chest, her brows knitted in concentration. King Lucien could only feel her soft touch
from his forehead to his neck, his chest.
How was it possible that the touch that should repulse him was the only touch he
could feel without disgust and discomfort?
“Your fever has broken, Master,” she whispered with relief in her voice.
“You undressed me.” His eyes pierced hers.
She swallowed tightly. It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes,
Master.”
His eyes hardened, and she watched his jaw lock. “Why?”
“You were r-running a high temperature, and I n-needed to run the cold water on
you.” She swallowed nervously. “Your face and your neck weren’t breaking the fever.
I knew I had to extend it to the rest of your body.”
“And now that you saw the damages your father made, does it repulse you?” he
asked harshly, anger flashing in his eyes.
“No.”She shook her head firmly. “Battle scars are not repulsive, Master. I only saw
the extent of your bravery.”
Similar words reverberated through his memory. Followed by the sound of her
cries. She’d cried right here beside him and whispered to him that his scars were a
mark of bravery. The marks that made him the lion he was.
Another chunk of ice cracked around his frozen heart and fell away.
He couldn’t stop staring at her. At the slight reactions she wasn’t aware of. The
nervous way her hand gripped her nightclothes, the flush of her cheeks, the flash of
her eyes.
His body had been reacting to her since he rose from slumber, but now his phallus
hardened and lengthened.
He didn’t know that a man could get this way when he was unwell, and most
definitely, not a man like him. What was it about her?
His eyes on her, he noticed the imprint of a hand on her cheek. “Who struck you?”
The question took her by surprise, and her hand fluttered up to caress that cheek.
“It was Mistress Vetta.”
He gave no reaction. “Why?”
She shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “She, um… she was angry because of what
happened to you, because of my father h-hurting you even a-after death.”
“You doctored me through the night,” he stated suddenly.
The abrupt change of subject rattled her. She didn’t expect it, but she answered,
nonetheless. “Yes, Master. I apologize for falling asleep. Please forgive me. I really
wanted to stay awake.”
“Why?”
She hesitated, then swallowed softly and whispered, “To watch over you.”
King Lucien didn’t know what it was about the whispered words that made another
bit of ice crack around his chest. But it did. “I don’t need protection, Danika,” he
stated firmly.
“I know, Master,” she replied readily.
Silence. “I will give you a reward for doctoring me through the night. Tell me what
you want.”
Her heart skittered. She wanted to tell him she didn’t need a reward for nursing
him. She wanted to tell him she’d still nurse him again wholeheartedly in the future.
She wanted to say those things, but she didn’t because she knew it wouldn’t end well
for her.
Tell me what you want.
Danika tried to think it through. A master rewards a slave occasionally when she
pleased him.
Unbidden, she remembered her first reward from him. Her body went hot all over
as she remembered the way he’d kept pushing into her body until she released. With
the way he watched her, Danika would swear that he knew what she was thinking
about, even though his face didn’t change.
“If it’s not too much to ask, Master, I want you to g-give orders so that the m-
mistress will stop yanking on my hair whenever she wants, whenever I didn’t do
anything wrong,” she whispered. When he kept staring at her, saying nothing, she
added, “My scalp has been burning for the past few days.”
No words at all. She couldn’t read his expression, so she didn’t know what was
going through his mind.
“Strip,” he ordered.