Page 46 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

She winced despite herself. His jaw tightened and decision flashed across his face. Before she could protest, he bent and scooped her into his arms.

A small, humiliating gasp escaped her.

“Lucas!”

“You’re not walking back on that,” he said firmly.

She wrapped an arm instinctively around his shoulders to steady herself. The movement brought her even closer. She could feel the flex of muscle beneath her fingers. The strength in him was almost startling. And his heat. It enveloped her like a gentle blanket.

He carried her as if it were nothing. The clearing seemed to blur again, but this time it was her heart, not her footing.

She had always known he was strong. He trained daily. Faced danger more times than she could know about. But this was different.

There was a gentleness in the way he adjusted his hold so her injured foot wouldn’t jostle. A carefulness that contradicted the stern king-mode scolding from moments ago.

“You’re very quiet,” he said.

She swallowed. “I’m plotting my revenge.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I’ll have Orion compose a ballad about the tyrant king who abducted his own queen.”

He huffed a laugh against her temple. The sound warmed her more than the sun filtering through the trees.

Jealousy. He had definitely been jealous. The realization settled softly now. He hadn’t been angry because she was reckless. He’d been angry because she’d been with someone else. The knowledge sent heat spiraling through her chest.

“You were upset,” she said carefully.

“I was concerned.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He didn’t answer immediately. His stride remained steady, measured. Finally, quieter, “I don’t like seeing you with men who look at you like that.”

Her breath caught. “You were jealous.”

“You are my wife. Those looks are worthy of treason.”

“And how,” she asked, voice barely above the rustle of leaves, “do they look at me?”

His eyes met hers.

Intensity. Possession. Something fiercely restrained. “Like you’re the only light in the world.”

Her heart stumbled.

“The way you don’t?” she whispered.

Silence stretched between them. His grip tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Sia,” he said, and her name in his voice felt like a confession.

Her chest felt too small for her heart.

This was foolish. Dangerous and complicated. He wasn’t hers.

And yet, as he carried her through the trees, strong and steady and unexpectedly tender, she couldn’t ignore the truth blooming, fragile and new.