Page 179 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

Nemeth frowns. “But…”

“You need to explain? Let me try to help you.” I bring his hand to my cheek, pressing a kiss to his thumb. My heart overflows with joy. “Your brother Ivornath concocted a plan with Meryliese to destroy the Liosian army and they triggered the curse and sent you to the tower anyhow. Am I right?”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t know…never saw your sister. Just knew Ivornath was up to something.”

I pat his stomach. “Then we amend that. All right then. Your brother was up to something. He sent you to the tower with instructions to seduce me and win me to Darkfell’s side. And when you met me, you hated the idea.”

Nemeth’s eyes flutter closed again. His skin is such a strange shade of gray, blotched with the plague’s rash livid and dark against his neck. “Didn’t hate…idea. Liked it…liked you…too much.”

“Dragon shite,” I tell him in a wobbly voice, near to tears again. “They might have told you to seduce me, they might have told you to report back on me, but you didn’t have to take me as your mate. I would have been happy to be your paramour. Instead, you wanted us together. You wanted us to be mated, to give me your bite. To make me your wife. You didn’t use me like Ivornath used Meryliese. You loved me.”

“Still do.” His fingers lift from my cheek and he traces my mouth. “Understand…if you…no longer love…me.”

“Dragon shite,” I say again.

“Or trust me.”

“More dragon shite. You’re going to get better. I’m going to keep giving you my blood, and you’re going to get better. You know my blood is the cure for the plague? It’s been keeping you alive. We’re going to get you well, my love. And then we’re going to rule Darkfell together. We’re going to combine our kingdomsand make the world a better place for those of us that have survived.”

He smiles at me, tired, but the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

I press yet another kiss to his fingertips. “Now hurry up and get better, so I can ride on your knot once more.”

The rumbly, rusty laughter that erupts from Nemeth’s chest is the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Chapter

Eighty-Four

One Week Later

Nemeth is a terrible patient.

I glare down at my mate from my spot over his bed, my hands on my hips. “I am going to grab the nearest chamberpot and pummel you over the head with it if you don’t lie back down right this instant, you absolutely infuriating Fellian.”

He ignores my scowl, trying to push himself up on his feet. “I can’t lie in bed all day long, Candra. There’s too much to be done.”

“Let someone healthy do it, you rock-brain,” I tell him, planting my hands on his chest and giving him a not-so-subtle nudge back into bed. “You’re still recovering from the plague. Your rash has just now healed. Do I need to cover you with another poultice of herbs and onion plaster?”

Nemeth makes a hideous face at that, but he doesn’t try to get out of bed again. “If you come near me with more of that plaster, I am going to scream, Candra.”

“And I am going to scream if you try to get out of bed,” I reply tartly. “So much screaming.” I give his shoulder anothernudge and this time he goes down without complaint, relaxing in the bed once more. I pull the sheets up to his chest and beam, pleased. “That’s better.”

“You are an absolutely impossible woman.”

“I really am. Please don’t tell me that you’re surprised by this.” I tuck the blankets tighter around his legs, ignoring his grumbling. “You should count yourself lucky that you have my undivided attention. Fancy lords have given trunks full of jewels for less?—”

Nemeth grabs my hand and pulls me down onto the bed next to him. I tumble onto the blankets, my breasts pressed against his side, and let out a squeak of surprise.

“That’s better. Now you’re quiet.” His arm slides around my waist, pinning me in place.

I poke him on his chest. “Very funny. Let me up.”

He shakes his head, gazing down at me thoughtfully. “You look tired,milettahn. I worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” I protest, though I am exhausted. The constant blood draws are taking their toll on me. Maybe I can lie here next to him for a moment. I close my eyes, snuggling against his broad chest. “It’s nice to be able to touch you without you smelling like onions.”

“Those damned poultices of yours.”

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