Page 95 of The Throne Seeker
Tristan’s face darkened. “He should have never left you.”
She could have told him Zareb had set out to find the seer, but then she’d have to explain why she’d sought the seer in the first place and what the seer had said during their challenge. She had no desire to delve intothatconversation. Not right now. They’d had enough turmoil for one day.
She changed the subject. “That salve will help,” she said, nodding to the calendula. “Can I put it on?”
Tristan gazed at the jar by his bedside, hesitant to trust it.
She picked it up and held it to her nose. “It’s not poison, I promise.”
He gave a reluctant nod, letting her unravel the bandages from his abdomen.
After a moment, he said, “Your hands are so soft… You should be a healer.”
“With your family, it might just become my full-time job.” She threw him a sly smile.
He let out a harsh laugh, then flinched. “Don’t make me laugh.”
Rose washed her hands in the basin by his bed, then poured alcohol over them before dumping the contents of the calendula into her palm. She was in the middle of spreading it onto the stitches when he ran his hands through her hair.
“I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all of this,” he whispered after a lengthy silence. “I’ll find out who was behind it, and I’ll make them pay. I swear.”
She didn’t reply, pretending to concentrate on rubbing in the ointment. The propped open window next to his bed allowed the fresh air to swirl around her damp hair, sweeping it back. She was tired. Tired of everything being a struggle. Tired of the council being so determined to be rid of her. Tired of trying to appease people who didn’t care for her. Tired of proving herself time and time again, only to be met with prejudice.
He must have seen the doubt shining in her eyes. “They want to scare you… Don’t let them.” He attempted to sit up but stopped, flinching.
“Don’t, or you’ll rip your stitches,” she warned.
Tristan sighed, admitting defeat, before he motioned for her to join him on the bed.
She hesitated, fighting the fear of his mother returning, but she slid under the sheets anyway. Careful not to hurt him, she pressed herself against him while he wrapped his arms around her. The contact made her melt, resting her head on his chestas she listened to his rhythmic heartbeat—a glorious sound. She ran her fingers along his bare chest above his bandages.
Pain slipped onto Tristan’s face, not from her touch, but at the sight of the bandages on her wrists. He slipped a hand onto hers, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I wish I knew how to explain what you mean to me,” he whispered. “If you could only see into my mind, hear my thoughts, feel how I feel when I’m with you. You would know without a doubt there is not a soul for me in this world but you… When I heard you’d been taken, I went out of my mind. I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. If something had happened to you… I don’t know what I would have done.”
Guilt twisted her, imagining how much strain she’d put on everyone.
What disturbed her the most about the whole ordeal was knowing that a stranger had handled her unconscious body for an entire night. Her skin crawled to think of what they could’ve done. It scared her so much that she couldn’t even speak her fears out loud.
Instead, she concentrated on his heartbeat as she said, “Thank you… for coming in after me.”
Tristan’s finger hooked her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes, where she found a calm sea. “There is nowhere in Vallor you could go that I wouldn’t follow. From the lost city above to the siren sea caverns below I would follow you.” He ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “And you did the saving… Speaking of, I still don’t understand. How were you able to speak to the sea beast?”
She didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. It was just like with the phoenix. It just kind of… happened.”
“I’ve never known anyone able to communicate with magical creatures.” He gazed at her in genuine wonder, then his lips twitched upward. “Is there anything else you can do?”
A light, short laugh escaped her lips. She rested her head against his chest as she grumbled, “Not that I know of.”
His hands caressed her hair, weaving through the long strands. Before she could get too comfortable, she cast a glance back at him. His fingers traced her jawline before diving into her hair, sending shivers along her skin. He lowered his lips to meet hers.
Something primal stirred in her as she stifled a sigh, arching into the kiss. She was starved—so starved of his touch. Her restraint reserves had been all but exhausted by having to shove away the constant, restless hunger for him. She wanted to consume him, to delve into the center of him and devour his soul. To discover the sounds he’d make if she just inched her hand a little lower.
He was in no shape to dothosekind of activities, but heaven help him when he was. She’d have him singing her name in his sleep by the time she was through. He’d never be the same again.
Tristan’s fingers snaked to the nape of her neck while the other pressed her into his body as hard as his wound would allow, almost fully on top of him now, mouths moving in perfect unison.
He drew back just enough to mutter against her lips, “Me and you.”
She dove headfirst into the pool of his irises as if she were plunging straight into the ocean depths. She didn’t care if she couldn’t see the bottom. “Me and you.”
