Page 139 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

“I think I’m fine?”

“Get up,” he says. “Move around. Let us see if you are dizzy.” There’s a note of tension in his voice. “I do not think we should celebrate too soon.”

Even before I get to my feet, though, I know. After years of living with my blood curse, I know what it feels like when my potion isn’t strong enough. I know the waves of nausea that hit when I miss a dose. I know how it feels when things areoff. And it doesn’t feel off right now. I feel good. Amazing.

It feels as if some strange puzzle piece inside me has suddenly locked into place.

I push off of him and bounce to my feet. Gathering up the skirts of my chemise, I laugh and race across the library, kicking books out of the way as I do. Who cares about books at a time like this anyhow? I feelgood. I’m not tired. Not drained. Not dizzy. Not feeling as if I’m going to vomit at any moment. Is this how healthy people feel every day? Like they could just run straight to the horizon and keep running?

Lucky bastards.

“Careful, Candra,” Nemeth warns, following after me. “Don’t hurt yourself?—”

I surge back toward him, running as fast as I can, and fling my arms around him. The momentum of my jump knocks us both to the ground, and I laugh and laugh and laugh.

I laugh so hard I want to fling myself on the floor and kick my legs like a child. “I’m free,” I whisper, and my voice breaks on a sob. “I’m free.”

“Are you well, love?” He rolls us over, his hands skimming over my body. “Does anything hurt?”

“Mmm,” I say, my arms raised up behind my head in a sensual stretch. I feel as if I can take on the world now. I want to both laugh hysterically and sob like a child for all that this means. “I do have one particular nagging ache.”

“Gods,” he murmurs, running his hands over one of my calves. “Where? Your arm? Your leg? How bad is the ache?”

“Higher,” I tell him, helpfully pulling my skirts up a bit. When he reaches my knee, I sigh. “Keep going higher.”

“Candra,” he growls, and he looks utterly furious. “Donotmake light of this.”

“You don’t understand, Nemeth,” I say giddily. I squeeze my folded arms against my chest and shiver all over like a happy puppy. “I feel good! I feel good without the medicine! Do you know how much I’ve hated every dose? How much the scent turns my stomach sometimes? Do you know what this means? It means I’mfree!” I choke on the word this time. “I’m bloodyfree.”

Nemeth grunts, and I can’t tell if he’s pleased along with me or still mad over my joke. “If by free you mean bound to me, because now you must have my blood.”

“Oh, pish-tosh. Being bound to you isn’t a chore. I love you. I want to spend every day with you. Now I have an excuse.” I beam at him. “It’s the best of all worlds.”

He doesn’t beam back. His wings flick and then settle against his back. “You say that now, but what if you grow sick of me like Ravendor did her mate?”

Sick of him? When he’s been the only thing keeping me going for so long? I shake my head and get to my knees, crawling over to him. I put a hand on his chest, pushing him back to the floor again. “I will never, ever be sick of you for as long as I live,” I tell him. “You and I are in this together. There is nothing that will separate us.”

“Nothing?” He arches a brow at me.

“Not even the gods.” I grab the belt of his kilt and tug it off. “Now come and kiss your wife.”

“Is it kissing that’s on your mind, then?” he jokes, even as my hands steal under his kilt and cup his shaft. I tease the knot at the base of his cock, loving the hiss of breath between his teeth. “That’s not my mouth, Candra.”

“I can kiss you in other places,” I tell him, words coy. “But only if you ask me nicely.”

Nemeth sinks a hand into my hair, his fingers curling in my mane. He holds my head pinned, and I gaze down at him, curious at the pause. But he only gazes up at me with stormy green eyes, his expression full of emotion. “This might be the best moment of my life,” he tells me. “Seeing you healthy and happy.”

“You’re not saying that just because we’re surrounded by books?”

“We’re surrounded by death,” he corrects. “On all sides. And yet somehow, as long as it doesn’t touch you, I find I can manage it. I can manage anything as long as I have you, Candra.”

The look on his face is intense, vulnerable. I want to shower him with kisses and make him laugh so he’ll stop looking so concerned. “Then it’s lucky for you that you’re stuck with me, hmm?”

“I am lucky,” he agrees.

“So lucky.”

He lowers me toward his face and his lips brush against mine, just barely. “You can kiss me,” he murmurs. “Or you can ride me. Your choice.”

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