King Lucien woke up the next morning with mixed feelings. Peace from a good
night’s rest, and pain from the wound in his chest. He was curled around Danika’s
small body, his arms wrapped around her back, her breasts plastered to his chest.
The way his body hurt, he didn’t want to wake yet. Didn’t want to face the day. He
didn’t want to think about his wound. About the man that haunted him even in death.
Alone, he had no reason to keep being strong. To pull away from this soft body
and start fighting the demons who lurked around waiting to devour his mind.
He pulled his body back to find the full softness of her breast and slid down to find
her puckered nipple with his mouth. He placed his mouth on it and suckled her with
gentle tugs.
Shutting down all the thoughts from his head, he closed his eyes and waited for the
sleep he wasn’t sure would come.
He didn’t have to wait long.
Danika stirred awake and regretted the move when shards of pain zinged through
her body. Muscles she never knew she had before were hurting.
She opened her eyes and allowed them to settle on the wall opposite her. The
events of the day before had her belly in knots, and then the memories of the night
before had warmth running through her.
The king was holding her tight, she realised. She allowed the feeling to wash over
her. She kept completely still and lowered her eyes to his face.
His eyes were closed in sleep, his mouth was holding her puckered nub loosely to
his mouth.
She moved to pull away, but his mouth began moving, suckling on her while still
sleeping like a baby who was nursing in sleep at his mother’s breast.
She sighed and relaxed herself into his embrace.
Danika caught a glance of the man he was. The man he would have been if tragedy
hadn’t befell him in the form of her father and turned him to the hardest and coldest
man she’d ever seen.
She allowed herself to wonder who this king would have been if his father and
mother hadn’t been murdered, his pregnant sister wasn’t killed right in front of him, if
his people hadn’t been enslaved.
Baski had told her once that the king used to be a bright and happy person. He had
always been a man of few words, but it never stopped him from being as cheerful as a
royal could be.
Danika watched him openly. He was asleep again, his mouth loose on her. She
could stare at him unrestrained. Her eyes caught on the shiny black curls of his hair.
She raised her hand and ran it through the curls in a featherlike touch so he wouldn’t
wake. She didn’t know how much time passed; how long she looked at him.
Gently, she pulled her breast away from his mouth until the cool air hit her wet
nipple. She wanted to relieve her bladder, but she was reluctant to pull away from his
arms-the arms he had tightly wrapped around her.
She lowered her head and kissed his forehead in a featherlike manner. When she
pulled back, she gasped when she saw his blue eyes staring at her.
“M-Master!” she gasped, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red at being caught.
His eyes didn’t blink as he stared at her.
Suddenly, she felt too naked. The light in the room too much. This wasn’t the
darkness of the night; it was the brightest of the day. Time for reality.
“Greetings, M-Master,” she whispered.
His eyes dropped to her neck and her breasts. He swallowed tightly and stared up
to her face again. This time, the usual frown was back.
Slowly, he untangled his arms from her body and pulled back. He hissed when his
wound protested the movements.
“So sorry, Master.” Danika got up, ignoring the way her body screamed against the
movement. She gathered her clothes and put them on. He watched her silently, doing
nothing. Saying nothing.
Dressed, she took the bowl of water from last night back to the bathroom, where
she disposed of it and filled the bowl with new cold water. She took out another dry
rag cloth and walked back to his bed.
“May I bathe your wound, Master?” she whispered, her throat dry like sandpaper.
“You may,” he groaned, his eyes closed.
“Thank you, Master.” She removed the bloody bandage and took her time bathing
his chest and down to his belly.
His eyes remained closed, but that only made Danika more nervous because she
knew he was attuned to what she was doing to him. As she bathed his chest, she could
feel the stickiness of him on her inner thigh with each move.
Her cheeks turned hotter; her hand paused on his chest.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She whispered her apology and continued
washing his wound.
Afterwards, she applied the herbs Baski left on the small cabinet, the same herbs
she saw on his wound before she washed it off. Then she bandaged him up gently.
“Can I bathe your body, Master?” she whispered.
When he opened his eyes and watched her without saying a word, she added,
“Your temperature is still very hot and—-”
“I’ve been through worse, Danika. I can survive getting hit by an arrow,” he stated.
“I know you can, Master. But, please, let me,” she pleaded, her eyes beseeching
him.
After a moment’s hesitation, he closed his eyes. “Do what you wish.”
Another bit of trust. She thanked him and began running the wet rag down his
body. She bathed every part of him down to his legs.
She consciously skipped his loin and his thighs until she was done with the rest of
him.
Then she cleaned his thighs and as she bathed him, she couldn’t help turning the
burn returning to her facefrom the memory of the night before.
She remembered the way her thighs gripped his last night. The way he’d put his
mouth on her. The way she’d taken him so deeply.