Page 109 of The Wishing Game

"Ze..." I trail off, unsure of what to say.

He takes his time, making sure he licks every part of my injured knee. The effect is immediate as the pain subsides. I can feel the skin knot around, mending together. He does the same to the other knee, wrapping his lips around my flesh and trailing his tongue all over the bloodied injury. When my knees are as good as new, he takes my hand, then licks the small scrapes and scratches I got when I fell. As the last wound starts healing, he gives it one last lick before he gets to his feet.

It's only when he tilts my chin up and he leans forward that I realize what he means to do. My eyes widen and I scramble back, pushing him away at the same time.

"Thank you. I think I'm fine." I give him a tight smile.

He frowns.

"But you're still hurt."

"This." I touch my split lip. "It's nothing." I wave my hand. I'm not sure what the stance is on kissing in his world, but in mine it means something. And regardless of whether this is just for healing purposes, a kiss is a kiss.

And I'm married.

He straightens his back, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding me with overt skepticism.

"But it hurts." He narrows his eyes at me.

"It's a manageable pain. I'm sure it will heal in a few days."

"You may get an infection. You don't know how your human body will interact with this world," he points out.

I blink rapidly. He's right. I don't know what germs are in this world and how they will react with my human DNA. A simple cold could prove deadly here for all I know.

I nibble at my lip as I debate on what I should do. I'm not going to let him kiss me, that's for sure. But maybe...

"Here," I say as I extend my hand, pointing the inside of my finger at him. "You can spit on my finger and I'll rub it on my lip."

He stares at my finger for a moment before his gaze meets mine.

"Why are you being so difficult, human?" He sighs in annoyance.

"Because in my world, kissing is reserved for mates only," I explain in his terms.

"Kissing?" he repeats, his brows knit together.

"You know, touching lips. Only mates do that. So you'll have to either do it on my finger or let me die of an infection because you're not going anywhere near my lips," I say with a huff.

He glares at me.

I glare back.

"Is that so..." he grumbles in a gruff voice. Taking my hand, he brings my finger to his mouth. But instead of spitting on it as I expect, he wraps his lips around the tip of my finger, all the while staring me in the eyes.

I swallow.

He lazily strokes his tongue against my finger before he sucks it into his mouth. The black of his irises shifts ever so slightly, a hint of color swirling in that darkness. A shiver goes down my back, my rib cage suddenly constricting my breathing.

"That's enough," I croak, pulling my hand from him.

He lets my finger fall from his mouth, his eyes still on me as I bring it to my lip, massaging his healing saliva into my flesh. In a matter of seconds, the wound heals.

"Thank you," I nod awkwardly.

He's still staring at me, his scrutiny making my skin erupt in goosebumps.

I fidget around, arranging my dress and pulling it down my legs, hoping he'd get a clue and leave before this becomes more awkward than it already is.

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