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Without a word, he steps close and presses his fingertips to the bruising at my throat. I haven’t looked in the mirror to see the damage Sorcha did, but it’s painful when he touches me. I can’t help but flinch, and his mouth flattens into a grim line.
“You should have told me it was painful,” he chides.
“You didn’t give me an opportunity to do much of anything before you banished me to your suite.”
“That may be so.” He wraps his entire hand around my throat. For a split second, I think this is the end and he’s going to kill me, but then a delicious warmth spreads from his palm to my neck and then courses through my body. It feels like I swallowed liquid sunshine and when his hand pulls away, I know I’ve been healed.
I touch my throat, and there’s no pain. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t respond but moves to the sideboard that always holds a full wine carafe and pours a goblet. He offers it to me, but I shake my head, so he sips instead.
“Why did you intervene with Sorcha?”
He’s asking because he doesn’t understand the concept of mercy. He spends his days rendering harsh judgment on those who deserve to be in Hell, and with those he chooses for reincarnation, it isn’t so much a mercy as a sendoff on a journey that will be harder than their previous life.
No time to be coy, so I offer the truth. “I didn’t want your relationship with Truett to be harmed.”
“It wouldn’t have been. He understands and accepts my rule.”
“It would have,” I say, pushing my hands into my jeans pockets so I stop wringing them in nervousness. “He may understand and obey it, but he’d always look at you first and foremost not as his king or friend, but as the one who destroyed his own flesh and blood.”
Amell takes another sip of his wine and studies me. His eyes are penetrating, as if he’s trying to figure out a deep mystery. As if he’s searching for an all-important question to ask.
Instead, he apologizes. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I thought my rule would make you safe enough, but apparently not. As such, I can’t let you move about the castle on your own.”
I pull my hands free and hold them out beseechingly. “You can’t keep me in this room all day. I’ll go nuts from boredom.”
“I agree. You’ll accompany me wherever I go.”
The magnitude of that proclamation hits me hard. “Oh,” is all I can muster.
Twenty-four seven with Amell?
At his side during all his hellish duties? Not that I know what they encompass, but still… that’s a lot of time together.
And… an inconvenience to him?
“That seems like you’re going to a lot of trouble to keep me both safe and entertained.”
“Does it really?” he asks. “I sort of see it as averting future trouble, so it’s a wash.”
It’s not a wash at all. Everything he’s done concerning me has cost him something, whether it be time, conscience, or question to his rule.
He’s gone above and beyond what a king should do for someone as lowly and unredeemable as I am, even going so far as agreeing to Will’s release.
He introduced me to his daughter.
A surge of fondness renders me breathless. Few people have ever elicited such emotion from me, mostly since there have been so few I’d ever let get close enough for me to develop feelings.
And with that tenderness, something hotter pools low in my belly. The best way I know how to show my gratitude is through sex. For my entire life, it’s been the only thing of value I have to give.
But right now, I don’t want to just give something to Amell for what he’s done.
I actually want to take, because if I give Amell pleasure, it will pleasure me.
That is antithetical to everything I’ve ever known when it comes to sex.
“Can I touch you?” I ask, my voice raspy.
