Page 116 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
Maseo shifted his weight as he sought relief from the constant ache gnawing at his wounds, his grip on Kitsuki’s scales loosening, sending alarm through the dragon’s consciousness. The poultice the healer had applied at first light must have been losing its numbing properties.
Kitsuki angled his massive body downward, aiming for a secluded clearing nestled between a forest and a small stream. He felt Maseo’s heartbeat quicken with the unexpected descent as he landed, his powerful wings creating currents that bent the tall grasses in waves. Kitsuki crouched low, flattening his body against the earth to allow Maseo an easier dismount.
“Is everything okay?” Maseo asked, sliding off Kitsuki’s back. His voice carried the tight control of someone masking pain, but beneath it lay a weariness that hadn’t been there at dawn.
Kitsuki waited until Maseo had moved a safe distance away before transforming. The magic of his shift rippled through the air, scales dissolving into skin, wings receding into his back as his person form took shape in his royal attire. “It is time to change your dressings.” He gestured toward a patch of grass under a tree near the stream as he summoned the supplies needed to treat Maseo’s injuries. “Please sit.”
“I can take care of it myself,” Maseo protested.
A hint of amusement softened Kitsuki’s features. “While I admire your confidence in your flexibility, I suspect reaching the wound between your shoulder blades might prove challenging even for a warrior of your considerable skills.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Maseo’s mouth. “Fair point. But you’re a king. You shouldn’t have to tend to me.”
“You are my ward. Your well-being is my responsibility.”
With a gesture, Kitsuki’s magic enveloped Maseo’s tunic, which vanished into silver smoke, revealing the bandaged wounds beneath. His dragon stirred at the sight of Maseo’s bare torso.
Kitsuki settled behind Maseo. The bandage covering the slash across his shoulder blade had seeped with a dark fluid that carried an acrid scent. Working with methodical precision, Kitsuki unwound the bandage.
He opened the jar containing the emerald poultice, its aroma filling the air with sharp wintergreen, soothing lavender, and healing herbs. The salve glistened on his fingers as he gathered a generous portion. “This may cause discomfort.”
Maseo’s muscles tensed beneath Kitsuki’s fingertips at the first contact as a sharp hiss escaped him.
The corruption spreads faster than we can counter it, his dragon observed with growing alarm.We cannot lose him.
Kitsuki spread the poultice with reverent attention across Maseo’s skin. Each stroke became a silent promise of protection, belonging, and a future where such wounds would never again mar his body. His touch lingered at the boundary between injured and healthy flesh, making small, soothing circles that transcended mere medical necessity.
The ritual transformed into something sacred between them. Kitsuki found himself entranced as chills followed the path of his fingers when they strayed beyond the wound to the sensitive skin along Maseo’s spine.
His heartbeat quickened, the rhythm clear to Kitsuki’s enhanced senses. The sweet scent of his embarrassment intensified. “This feels beneath your dignity as king.”
Kitsuki paused. “You were injured because I failed to protect you. At least I can care for you now.”
The admission settled in the sudden stillness between them. Kitsuki resumed his ministrations, spreading the poultice with careful attention to every inflamed edge of the wound before focusing on wrapping fresh bandages around Maseo’s torso. His fingers worked with practiced efficiency, securing the dressing with enough pressure to hold without constricting. “I will do the one on your ribs next.”
He removed the dressing with careful hands, revealing the angry gash beneath. The corruption there was more advanced, the wound weeping a greenish fluid. Dark veins spread outward like a web of death, pulsing with each beat of Maseo’s heart.
“How bad is it?” Maseo asked, unable to see his injuries.
Kitsuki hesitated, unwilling to lie but reluctant to voice the full truth. “It appears the poultice is helping slow the progression somewhat, but it looks painful.”
He prepared another application, his dragon rumbling with satisfaction at being allowed to tend to their chosen one. The possessive thought no longer startled Kitsuki as it once had. Since witnessing Maseo almost sacrifice himself to end Nasume’s reign of terror, Kitsuki had accepted his dragon was right. Maseo belonged with them alongside Auslin.
He responds to our touch, his dragon insisted.He knows our strength is his sanctuary.
Kitsuki gathered more of the healing salve onto his fingers, applying it to Maseo’s injury. “Does this hurt?”
“It burns, but in a good way, like the medicine is fighting back against whatever poison is in there.” Maseo hesitated before adding, “I’m not used to having someone take care of me.”
The admission transformed the space between them, turning medical necessity into something far more intimate. As Kitsuki’s fingers continued their careful work, tracing the edges of the wound with healing salve, Maseo’s breath hitched. An involuntary sound escaped his throat, not of pain but of pleasure. The half-shifter tensed in mortification.
Kitsuki’s dragon thrashed within him.He wants our touch despite the pain. Craves it even as the poison consumes him.His body knows who he belongs to.
He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, remembering his commitment to getting Maseo to Auslin in time. Nothing would happen until the three of them reunited in Tiora.
Instead, Kitsuki channeled his fierce longing into his healing touch, transforming each caress into an unspoken promise of what might someday be. Each shiver was a victory against the poison; each exhale was a sign that Maseo still fought against the corruption spreading through his body.
When Kitsuki’s thumb grazed an uninjured patch of skin along Maseo’s ribs, the half-shifter arched into the touch, a low moan slipping past his defenses before he could suppress it. The sound made his dragon respond with fierce approval.
