Page 175 of The Devil of Tarsyn Forest

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“Thane is right.”

“I know.”He drew her wrist toward him; slowly he lifted his mask and pressed his lips to the inside of it.“But you’re here now.”

Her composure did not crack.It simply became significantly more expensive to maintain.

“My Lord,” she said, and her voice came out steadier than she deserved credit for.“You are unwell.”

“I’m aware.”He pressed another kiss to her wrist.“And I find I don’t particularly care.”

“That’s the fever talking.”

“No.”He looked up at her from beneath his lashes.“I’m talking.You tortured me for a month; don’t you think I deserve your praise?”

Azul made the tactical error of not immediately stepping back.

He moved slowly—giving her every opportunity to refuse—and his free hand came up to find her face again, tilting it toward him.

“One night,” he murmured, swaying.“That’s all I’m asking.”

“You’re about to collapse.”

“Not yet.”

“My Lord—”

“Ragnar,” he said.“Just once.Call me Ragnar.”

The silence stretched between them, warm and close.

“Ragnar,” she said quietly.

He exhaled like she’d taken his soul.

He removed his mask, too close for her to see, and his lips found her cheek.Her temple.The corner of her jaw.She required patience but he was at his wit's end.Her hands found the front of his open robe without her permission, fingers curling into the fabric.

“Your fever,” she said.

“Will still be there in the morning.”His mouth found the curve of her ear, and she felt his breath warm against it.“Let me have this.”His robes dropped to the floor.

She didn’t push him away.

His arms came around her, drawing her gently, and she stood in his arms.

He pressed his lips to her hair.

And then his weight shifted.

His knees buckled and he sagged against her with the full dead weight of a man whose body had finally overruled his intentions.

“Ragnar—”

“I’m fine,” he said into her shoulder, unconvincingly.

“You are not fine.”She hissed, already bracing against him, one hand gripping his arm, the other at his back.He was enormous and warm and increasingly horizontal.“I’m calling for Thane.”

“Don’t.”His voice was muffled in her hair.“Don’t call anyone.”

“You just collapsed on me.”