Page 150 of Shattered Jewel

“Are you going to tattle to Daddy?” I ask, drawing out the question.

“No,” she says, stepping into the room. “I’ve come to understand why you’re not resting.”

Her bewitching eyes hold mine.

My chest constricts in a way unrelated to the horrendous burn under all the gauze. It’s the sight of her trying to piece together the enigma that is Kaspian Valenti that does it. Such a futile effort. Even I can’t unravel myself fully.

Elara’s asking me, without uttering the words, to let my guard down, to let her in. But damn it, vulnerability isn’t a language I’m well versed in.

So instead I scoff, rubbing my temples as the headache that’s been steadily building since our final encounter with the Sovereigns throbs behind my eyes. “And what’s your theory, Dr. Wraithwood?”

Elara crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes. “The only person who could make the death of three leaders somehow worse is you. You’re nursing a brainchild of mischief over there.”

My mouth tugs up into a half-smile. “Always so quick to assume the worst of me.”

She moves closer, the faint scent of her spicy perfume teasing my senses. I try to focus on the screens around me, but it’s damn near impossible when Elara’s standing within snatching distance.

“I’m not assuming,” she counters. “I know you.”

The silence that follows her statement stretches on for an agonizing moment. She knows me. The thought should be terrifying.

What’s more frightening is that it’s … not.

“Then you should know,” I say finally, forcing myself to break eye contact. “Rest is a luxury we can’t afford right now. I have deaths to cover up and a Court to fix.”

Elara sighs softly, stepping closer until she’s leaning against the back of my chair. Her fingers brush against my bare shoulders, and despite myself, I stiffen at her touch.

“Your body needs rest to heal.”

“And your point is?”

Elara’s quiet for a long minute, her fingers trailing lines of heat on my skin.

“My point, Valenti,” she finally says, “is that you’re not invincible. You couldn’t even put on a shirt, could you? All you could manage was sweatpants because you’re body’s been through too much. And God forbid you ask for help the way you help others. Like me.”

I chuckle coldly. The sound slithers over the surrounding bookshelves before dying out.

“I’m still invincible where it counts,” I retort, leaning into her touch and rubbing my palm over my growing erection through those sweatpants.

Her hands freeze on my shoulders.

“Kaspian…” she warns.

Fuck. The sound of my name on her lips does things to me that no assortment of bandages or painkillers can alleviate.

I shrug out of her hold and utter the biggest lie of them all. “I’m fine, beastie.”

“Stop being so goddamn stubborn and let me help you.”

Her words tap against the walls surrounding my heart with more force than a battering ram. I can’t deny the sincerity burning in her eyes... or the effect it has on me.

“Help?” I ask, looking over my shoulder and forcing a smirk that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I didn’t realize being shot at and branded made me eligible for a spot in your charity case line-up. You’ve got your hands full with Axe, anyway.”

Her face smooths. Turns cold and bloodless. If I weren’t coldblooded myself, I’d be genuinely concerned over what I just unleashed.

Until she buries her fingers in my hair and yanks my head back until I bang against the chair and our faces our inches apart.

“I dare you to put him before yourself again, Kaspian,” she hisses through gritted teeth, “You’re as important to me as he is.”

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