Page 28 of Settle Down, Princess

“It’s good stuff,” I assured Jessalyn. “Your blood is full of adrenaline, wanting to fight, freeze, or flee, but there’s no need now. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”

But I wouldn’t. That realisation punched me fair in the gut when I thought of the fate of this tiny little girl. We’d ferried women—too many fucking women—to Khean to stand before the king in the grand nave and recite their vows, and we’d seen each one lowered into the ground within months. My arm tightened around her as she stared up at me like I’d hung the moon before taking the cup from me.

As a deep sense of satisfaction filled me when she parted those pretty little lips and took a sip of tea, I wondered if this was what wolf shifters felt. Of course, watching her mouth move reminded me of the other night. The memory was one I’d brought out over and over on the interminably boring ride: her little gasp, then her lips parting right as they swallowed my— I resolutely pulled my attention back to the here and now and nodded in encouragement.

“Doesn’t taste too bad, does it?” She shook her head. “Some of the shit Creed makes tastes like you’ve licked the floor of a fucking privy, but not this brew. Have another sip.”

Gods, she was damn pliable now. She did as I asked, drinking more and more until the mug was emptied.

“Come, let’s get you dressed.”

I didn’t expect Silas to be standing there holding out one of his shirts by the tips of his fingers, as if he thought the cloth might bite him. His voice somehow breaking the spell she was under. Damn Silas to hell. Jessalyn blinked, seemed to see where she was and in what state, and her whole body stiffened. I expected her to pull away, but instead she turned herself around in my arms, her hands shaking as she looked at me.

“You’re hurt.”

Those big eyes stared into mine, then her brows creased as she dropped her gaze and reached out to touch the scratches. I knew it’d hurt like a bitch if she did, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop her. I felt a rush of relief when she snatched her fingers back at the last second, but that was short lived when she pulled free. Scrambling up, she took Silas’ shirt, gripping his hand for a moment as she murmured her thanks, then yanked it over her head.

“We need medicine; a healer.” She was all princess now as she paced back and forth, a finger to her lips while she developed a mental list.

“I do the healing,” Creed said, his eyes shining with pride.

“Then what do we need, Master Creed?” she asked, not noticing how he basked in her attention. “Hot water?” She glanced over at the fire. “Clean cloth.” Her eyes dropped down as though considering whether one of Silas’ fine shirts would fit the bill. “Herbs? Just let me know, Creed, and I’ll go and fetch them.”

“And get eaten by a catamount for your troubles?” Arik drawled. His smile was pure poison as he shook his head. “Right now, you’re seeing Sir Roan here as your sworn protector.” Acid curdled in my guts at his words. “But he’s not. He’s an employee of the king”

“And he got himself hurt in the line of duty protecting me,” she responded calmly. Gods, she’d make a fine queen if she ever got the chance. She was tiny, but she stood tall with her hands balled on her hips, meeting the bastard’s gaze head on until he was forced to look away. She turned to face Creed and her eyes softened considerably. “Now, Master Creed—”

“No need to be gathering herbs,” he told her, pulling out the soft leather roll he kept all his supplies in. “I make sure I carry with me what I might need, and I have some for just this purpose.”

His fingers moved like lightning, pulling out packets and twists of this and that as Jessalyn squatted down to watch him at work. I admit to looking at her pert little arse pressed against the tail of the shirt because a man’s got to do what he has to when managing pain.

“Bladderwrack?” she asked when he picked up a dried sprig of some plant.

“Good for cleaning the blood,” he informed her. “Cats are foul creatures. They rake their paws through their own shit in an effort to cover it, so when they take a swipe at you, they drag all that filth through the wound.”

“Roan’s at risk of getting blood poisoning?” Her whole body stiffened as she looked back at me.

“Not today,” Creed assured her, showing her how he made one of his decoctions, the two of them chattering about the contents and its uses.

I leaned back, beginning to feel the full effects of my actions as the adrenaline washed out of my system, leaving me feeling flat as a pancake. Every muscle ached from the lack of sleep last night, the ride all day, and then that one big burst of exertion. As I slumped back on the bedroll, I revisited, over and over in my mind, the moment I cut that bastard cat’s head off. I needed that sense of satisfaction to stop me from spiralling down, down, down, to a place I never wanted to go. Just as I was struggling to keep myself seeing the positives and was letting a long breath out, she reappeared.

Gods, she looked like a fucking angel as she bent over me. The last rays of sunlight expended themselves in limning her body, outlining every delicious inch of her. But it was the look of concern in her eyes that undid me. How long had it been since a woman—anyone—had looked at me like that? I didn’t care to think too hard on that as Jessalyn reached for me now.

“All will be well, Sir Roan,” she said, bestowing upon me a title I’d never earn, but I couldn’t bring myself to complain as she sat down beside me before lifting my head into her lap. Sweet, floral female scent flooded my nose as her hands brushed my hair back. Pleasure and pain, that’s the life of a warrior, so it made sense that whatever Creed would do would be enough to make me suffer just when I was about to purr like a kitchen tabby. I winced as Creed scrubbed the wounds with a mixture that burned.

“Fuck… You bloody bastard…” I ground out.

“You’re being too rough with him, Master Creed,” she reprimanded.

“We need to be to get all of the taint out,” the prick replied, wringing out the cloth in the pot of hot water and herbs before coming back for more.

“Allow me.” She held out her hand. Creed stared at it, then into her eyes, and nodded. He’d never be able to deny her a thing, but she didn’t know that yet. “The wound must be thoroughly cleaned?”

“If even a trace of taint remains in the cuts, Roan will end up with a nasty infection.”

“Then I will be meticulous.”

I didn’t want this, didn’t want her hurting me. She could stroke my hair as Creed did the dirty work, taking my mind off the whole thing, but when she touched the cloth to the scratches, somehow it didn’t sting as bad. Perhaps because she dabbed at the wound rather than scrubbed at the thing, like Creed had. Over and over, she worked until finally Creed said she was done. Then she did stroke my face, my eyes able to roll closed just for a second, revelling in the pleasure of it.

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