Page 49 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

I twist in my seat to test my movement. There’s a low level of discomfort, like the soreness of a strained muscle, but the stabbing sensation has disappeared.

“No,” I say, amazed. Atlana lays her hands on my throat next. The same skin-tingling happens, then the sharp pain whenever I inhale fades.

“Can I ask a question?” I say, now feeling more comfortable to talk. “Not that I’m complaining, but why isn’t it completely gone—the pain around my ribs, I mean? Didn’t you undo all the damage?”

Ruskin makes a noise, and when I look over, I see a faint smile on his lips.

“She’s curious,” he says to Atlana. “She likes to know the answers to everything.”

“Not everything,” I say, but my tone matches his playfulness in spite of myself.

“Allow me to oblige,” Atlana says with a smile. “The surface level bruises and the ribs themselves are healed. Skin and bone are always simpler than other, smaller body parts. There will likely have been some small damage to the tissue where the bone fractured. I’ve left it for now, as I think your body will fix it nicely itself, and one should be careful not to overload a body with too much foreign magic in one go when we’re healing your throat as well.”

“Interesting,” I say. It makes sense that this kind of healing, like everything else, has its limitations. “And my eyes?”

“They were hit with magic?” she asks, looking them over.

“Yes, some kind of bright light which blinded me for a few minutes.”

Atlana confirms that I can see fine now and then checks for lasting damage, reading my eyes with her magic like she did my side. Minutes later she steps back, looking pleased.

“There’s been some strain, and you might have headaches for the next few days, but otherwise I think you’re all right.”

I jump up from the chaise, but Ruskin lays a hand on my shoulder. The heat of his touch sears through my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Slow down,” he orders, and there’s more than a hint of irritation in his voice. “Your body still has healing to do, remember?”

Atlana tactfully takes this moment to bid us goodbye. I thank her, and she curtseys before backing out of the room.

“Really, I’m fine,” I say, once we’re alone. I’m enjoying his hand on me and realize I’ve missed the weight of his touch—want that hand to linger—which is why I immediately pull away. I’m trying to be strong, or at least, not creating opportunities my weakness can take advantage of. Not easy to do, especially considering that a simple touch—something as simple as his hand on my shoulder—is enough to make my heart beat faster.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Ruskin says, and it seems I haven’t done much to remedy his frustration. “Just because you have magic now, doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable. You can still be hurt, and you need to start acknowledging that.”

“Oh, because you’re the master of admitting vulnerability?” I point out sarcastically. I look straight into his eyes, urging myself to keep my wits about me, but my heart refuses my commands. Instead of slowing down, it picks up the pace.

“It’s not the same.”

“Of course,” I say sadly, already knowing that he believes there’s vastly different rules for him and me.

He takes a step towards me, catching my wrists before I can stop him, and pulling me in close. My breath hitches in my throat. We can’t do this. We shouldn’t do this. And yet… I look up at him, feeling overwhelmed at the nearness of his body, the mere inches between me and that ridiculously kissable mouth.

I lick my lips, aware my breathing has gone shallow.

“It’s different, Ella, because even if I cannot have you, I cannot have a world without you in it.” His words are a whisper, tender and rough at the same time, and they coil themselves around every single one of my thoughts.

I can’t think.

I can barely breathe.

I shift, my thigh brushing against his, and Ruskin closes his eyes like he’s fighting an internal demon. When he opens his eyes, I have a split second to see the fire blazing in them, to realize he’s lost the battle.

“Ruskin, we?—”

Can’t, I want to say, but I’m silenced by the weight of his lips. His mouth is on mine, demanding entry, and I’m powerless to deny him. How could I, when every inch of him is so strong, so powerful? Even my body betrays me. Boiling blood rushes through my veins, and my hands move of their own accord, eager for more of that closeness, desperate for… everything.

The fact that I’m pawing eagerly at his shirt as his hands find my hips is irrelevant. He uses his grip to pull me flush against him, my yielding flesh giving way against his hard muscles. I savor the taste of him as his tongue traces mine, caressing it, filling my mouth with that tantalizing sweetness whose source I can never identify. The flavor is just purely Ruskin, like honey with a bite of heat after it. You’d never know looking at him that’s what lies beneath, and yet I get to experience it—taste it.

I want to throw myself into that maddening sweetness of his, to lose myself in his lips and surrender all that I am. And more than just wanting it… I need it.

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