Page 127 of The King has Fallen

“Just… one minute, Jann,” I growled, looking at Yilan whose eyes were hooded from lack of sleep, her hair messy and skin flushed. Her shirt was open and hanging off her shoulders because it was too hard to get on and off with our hands bound and it left all of her bare to my eyes and…

I groaned, tearing my eyes off of her as she pulled the sides closed over her beautiful breasts.

She smiled. “Good morning.” Her voice was husky and that just made me want her more. But Jann was outside and my instincts were prickling.

“Good morning,” I rumbled, leaning down to kiss her swiftly, then holding her hand to help her off the bed while we were still bound.

I helped Yilan put on her leggings, then grabbed my leathers. I was still buttoning them when I called Jann to come in.

The tent flap twitched aside immediately and he stalked in, his eyes cutting to Yilan once, which made my hackles rise. But he didn’t flirt, and his gaze when he turned it on me was dark and grim.

“What is it?” I asked.

“There’s an issue with Gall.”

I swore. Yilan gripped my hand where we were bound and her eyes got big. “What is it?”

Jann clawed a hand through his hair and stared at me as if I should be understanding something. I frowned. “What—”

“It isn’t… I need you to come with me.”

“Well, of course, lead the way—” I started walking, Yilan trotting at my side, but Jann didn’t move.

“No, Melek you can’t take her. The young Neph… they’ll frenzy. Things are… escalating.”

Shit. Those assholes must have found Gall in his Quiet Place. Dammit! I stopped dead, turning to look at him. He glanced at Yilan, then back at me apologetically.

Shit fuck motherfuckingshit.

With a heavy sigh, I turned to face Yilan. Her eyes were sad, but she gripped my fingers with her bound hand and stroked my arm with the other.

“Leave us,” I ordered Jann. He opened his mouth, but I shot him a look. “Just for a moment—wait outside. I’ll join you soon.”

Jann nodded and trotted out while I turned to face my mate. “Yilan, I’m sorry—”

“Melek, don’t apologize. If it was my sister, I’d be gone in a heartbeat. It had to happen. I’m glad… I’m glad we got this time.”

We were both looking at our bound hands. The cotton had lost its crisp white, the creases in the material emphasized by dirt, and the edges fraying. I twined our fingers, aching to see how small hers were between mine, her short nails digging into the back of my hand just like they’d dug into my back last night.

I blew out a breath.

“How do we do this best?”

She took a quick breath. “The best way is to leave the knots tied. We’ll need a dagger.”

I led her to the side of the tent where I’d left my weapon straps and pulled one of the blades, offering it to her, hilt first.

She took it with a frown on her face, but then lifted our bound wrists and examined the twists of the fabric, sliding between them with the flat of the blade.

“I cut the bond as a symbol of my freedom, and yours,” she whispered. “But I hold to it because my soul remains bound to yours.”

Then she lifted her eyes to meet mine. A shadow flickered in her gaze as she twisted the blade with a jerk and the cotton gave.

A shriek of pain clanged through my chest and I instinctively grabbed her wrist to stop her. But it was too late. The loops around my wrist and hers loosened. It was the work of a moment to remove the tie completely.

Yilan didn’t meet my eyes as she gently pulled her wrist from my grip, then took the cut edge and began to unwrap the loops. Then, so sweetly, she lifted my wrist and kissed the inside of it softly, where red lines of compression marred my skin.

“Yilan,” I croaked.

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