“…Azul.”He stumbled, manoeuvring them toward his fur-dressed bed, taking her with him, and she found herself caught beneath him as he went down, her back against the bedding, his weight settling across her.“One night,” he murmured.“You said you’d give me one night.”
“I said no such—”
“Stay.”The word was barely audible.His eyes were already closing.“Just stay with me...Please.”
She lay pinned beneath a feverish warlord, his arm across her waist, his breathing already deepened towards sleep.
“This is extremely inconvenient,” she informed him.
He said nothing, already asleep.
Azul stared at the ceiling of the tent, listening to the camp outside, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against her side.His heat soaked through her robes.
She listened to his breathing; it was laboured.She bit her lips; he was shaking.
It took everything in her not to call anyone, to trust that he knew his body more than she knew him.She forced her eyes closed and turned into his body, allowing herself a moment’s peace.
She had spent her nights half awake, scared Somadina would force his way into her room if she slept too deeply.
So she found respite in Ragnar's arms.
For just one night.
In the command tent, Nyraxa refilled her wine cup and smiled at Caius's disapproving expression.
"He'll be fine," she said."Better than fine.Trust me."
Caius shook his head."You dragged the Khatun through an Ukhel ritual circle in the middle of a war zone."
"Worth it."
"You have no idea what that kind of magic does to a person."
"She seems fine."Nyraxa shrugged."A little disoriented, maybe.But fine."
Caius opened his mouth to argue, then stopped and instead reached for the wine.
"If this goes wrong," he said, "I'm blaming you."
Nyraxa raised her cup."To the Great Khan.May he wake up tomorrow with a clear head and a satisfied smile."
Caius rolled his eyes and drank.
Ragnar was still fast asleep.
His fever had broken sometime in the small hours; she had felt it happen, the damp shift of his skin against her shoulder, the slight loosening of the tension in his body.
He was still holding her.
His arm had not moved from her waist.If anything, it had tightened in sleep, drawing her closer with single-minded possessiveness.She had turned so her back was pressed against his chest, giving her room to breathe that wasn’t hindered by his pectoralis.Her head was tucked beneath his chin.She could feel his heartbeat against her spine, it was slow and steady.
Good, no tachycardia.
It didn’t help that his body had apparently decided the fever’s passing warranted a celebration of its own.
He shifted in his sleep.
The movement was unconscious, his hips pressing forward in a steady rhythm.His arm tightened slightly.His breathing didn’t change.
