Page 136 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
“Shit!” Bitris loosened his grip but didn’t release him, his hands moving to support Maseo instead. “You’re still injured?”
“The eye patch wasn’t a giveaway?” Drayden asked with a disapproving tut.
Maseo tried to downplay his reaction. “Healing is taking a little longer than expected.”
“Sorry, but I have to say, hearing you cry out gives me ideas for what to do with you in bed when you’re feeling better.” He winked at Maseo for good measure, making the half-shifter laugh despite the lingering pain.
“For fuck’s sake, Bitris,” Sudryl scolded, abandoning his unpacking to approach. “He’s injured, not looking to be bedded by an overenthusiastic lover. He looks as if he went ten rounds with a necromancer and lost.”
“Only one round,” Maseo joked. “But at least I won.”
Bitris guided Maseo toward his bed with surprising gentleness, his usual flirtatious demeanor now mixed with genuine concern. “Let me help you sit down before you collapse. I’ve been worried sick about you, you know. When I heard His Majesty carried you off the battlefield, I tried to fight my way through the king’s personal guard to make sure you were still breathing.”
“He’s not exaggerating for once,” Drayden confirmed, shaking his head. “It took both of us to hold him back. The damn fool nearly got himself court-martialed.”
Maseo lowered himself onto his bed with a wince. While the familiar mattress wasn’t close to the luxury of the bed in the palace he had been using since his return, it still felt like coming home.
Bitris sat beside him, so close that their thighs touched. “Tell us everything. Don’t leave out a single delicious detail.”
“Give him room to breathe,” Drayden admonished, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s a hell of a hike from the castle to the barracks when you’re injured.”
“I’m giving him what he needs,” Bitris protested, sliding an arm around Maseo’s shoulders. “Tender loving care from his most devoted admirer. Should I fluff your pillow, darling? Massage those sore muscles? Feed you Alsarian grapes while you tell us how you slew the big bad wolf?”
Despite the pain, Maseo smiled. Bitris’s outrageous flirtation was a reassuring slice of normalcy in a world turned upside down. “I think I can manage without the grapes.”
“Your loss. Previous recipients have described my grape-feeding technique as transcendent.” Bitris leaned closer, his breath warm against Maseo’s ear. “Though I’d much rather put my mouth to other uses if you’d let me.”
“What happened out there?” Sudryl asked, redirecting the conversation. “Last we heard, the king was carrying you away, looking as if death itself had claimed you.”
“That’s not far off,” Maseo admitted. “Turns out fighting a shadowmancer who dabbled in necromancy and had a lifelong hatred of me wasn’t the best choice.”
“But you won,” Drayden said, his blue eyes bright with admiration. “You killed Nasume.”
The words still felt surreal to Maseo. “I did, although I almost didn’t live to see the aftermath.”
“Tell us everything,” Bitris urged, pressing even closer. “The entire camp was buzzing with stories, each wilder than the last.” His fingers played with the hair at the nape of Maseo’s neck. “One soldier swears he saw you transform into a giant wolf despite being half-human. Another claims you absorbed Nasume’s shadow powers and became a necromancer yourself.”
Maseo snorted, then winced at the pain it caused. “Nothing that dramatic. I fought him with my sword while he used his necromancy to cheat, but I drove my blade through him to end it all. Unfortunately, he wounded me with his forbidden magic, which auramancers can’t heal.”
He couldn’t bring himself to tell them the truth about how every second stole another piece of his soul away and brought him one step closer to death.
Bitris’s face brightened with forced cheer. “Well, I, for one, think you’ll look sexy with battle scars. The eye patch alone adds a certain dangerous mystique. Very dashing. Very seductive. I may need to fan myself just thinking about it.”
Maseo laughed, only to regret it as pain lanced through his ribs. “Only you would find near-death injuries attractive.”
“In fairness, I find everything about you attractive.” Bitris leaned closer with a seductive expression that Maseo was confident had led to countless men ending up in the dragon shifter’s bed. But Maseo’s heart didn’t belong to his friend.
Sudryl rolled his eyes with fond exasperation. “That’s not saying much when you find breathing attractive if it’s done by someone pretty enough.”
“And our Maseo is the prettiest,” Bitris agreed with a wink. “Scars or no scars. In fact, I’ve been saving my best moves for when you returned. I’ve had plenty of time to perfect my technique while thinking about you alone in my bed at night.”
“What Bitris is trying to say, beneath all that shameless propositioning,” Drayden interjected with a pointed look at his friend, “is that we’re glad you’re alive. When we heard you were gravely injured, we weren’t sure we’d ever see you again.”
Maseo bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Sudryl reassured him.
“Did I miss anything?” Maseo asked, trying to lighten the mood.
