Page 3 of Lord of the Lone Wolf
Then Kitsuki appeared, his hands gentle yet firm as he lifted Auslin from Maseo’s arms, cradling him against his chest with a tenderness that made the half-wolf shifter’s heart ache with longing.
“Will he be okay?” The words tumbled out as Maseo watched Kitsuki carry Auslin to a bedroll beside a campfire he hadn’t noticed before. The dragon shifter’s face was a mask of controlled worry as he settled his mate down and stroked the damp hair from Auslin’s forehead.
“He has been pushing himself to exhaustion while we searched for you,” Kitsuki replied without looking up. “He will need time to rest after exerting so much power to heal your grievous wounds.”
Guilt overwhelmed Maseo. While he had been lying broken and dying, Auslin had been sacrificing his own health to find him. “I’m sorry,” Maseo whispered, the words inadequate for the weight of his regret.
Kitsuki’s hands stilled in Auslin’s hair, his controlled expression cracking to reveal the depth of his own exhaustion and worry. When he looked up at Maseo, his blue eyes held no blame, only weary relief. “There is no need for sorrow. Do you eat rabbit?”
The abrupt change of subject left Maseo blinking in confusion. Then he registered the silver flames of dragon fire dancing nearby.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Maseo replied, inclining his head respectfully as he settled by the fire, unable to believe he could walk without the agony that had defined his existence for days since escaping from his father. Auslin’s healing had been so complete that Maseo felt better than he had in ages.
Kitsuki retrieved a dead rabbit from where it had fallen and settled beside Maseo. His knife work was precise and economical as he broke down the carcass, seasoning the meat with herbs that appeared from thin air before setting it to cook on an invisible spit above the flames.
Maseo couldn’t help but stare. There was something mesmerizing about watching the most powerful ruler in Talwyn perform such mundane tasks with casual expertise. His father wouldn’t have known the first thing about preparing game, let alone cooking it.
“You seem surprised,” Kitsuki observed, and Maseo felt heat rise in his cheeks at being caught in his obvious admiration.
“Usually, kings travel with an entourage to handle things like cooking.” Maseo managed a small laugh, thinking of Nasume’s total helplessness outside the pampered confines of his castle. “My father wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of himself in the woods.”
“Unlike Nasume, I prefer to be self-sufficient.” Kitsuki used his magic to dispose of the rabbit’s remains and clean the blood from his hands with casual efficiency. “I pride myself on taking care of my mate.”
The simple statement hit Maseo with unexpected force. There was such quiet devotion in those words, such certainty that caring for Auslin was not a burden but a privilege. Maseo had never experienced that kind of love, had never even dared to dream that it might exist after his toxic relationships with Phaedra and Kio.
“Auslin is so lucky,” he said, unable to keep the wistfulness from his voice. “Congratulations on your mating bond. I was surprised when I found out, but I’m genuinely happy for you both.”
Kitsuki inclined his head. “Thank you. It was a joy I never expected to have, but I am grateful to the Fate Power for allowing it after six centuries of solitude.”
Six centuries. It staggered Maseo to think about being isolated for so long.
“I would ask how you came to this place,” Kitsuki continued, “but Auslin will want to be present for that conversation. I do not wish to make you relive your trauma twice, so I will refrain from asking in-depth questions about your experience. Please do not mistake that for a lack of interest.”
The consideration in that statement stunned Maseo. When was the last time anyone had cared about sparing him unnecessary pain? When had anyone ever shown such thoughtfulness for his feelings?
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he managed, his voice thick with emotion he struggled to contain.
Kitsuki hesitated, a rare expression of uncertainty crossing his aristocratic features. “But I must know if it was Nasume who did this to you.”
Maseo’s newly healed body tensed, phantom pains ghosting through limbs that no longer bore any trace of injury. But there was no point in lying, not when the truth was written in every mended bone. “He did, but it could have been worse.”
He meant his words to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. Silver bled into Kitsuki’s eyes. When he spoke, his voice carried the deep, rumbling undertones of his inner dragon. “We will make Nasume pay tenfold for this heinous atrocity.”
The vehemence of his declaration startled Maseo. He had expected anger, perhaps, but not that level of personal outrage on his behalf. “Why do you care so much?”
Kitsuki’s silver gaze grew mournful with heavy guilt. “Because your father taking his wrath out on you is our fault.”
He reached out and took Maseo’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the protective ring he had gifted Maseo. The silver magic within it pulsed in response to its creator’s touch.
“We had hoped this would be sufficient protection,” Kitsuki’s dragon continued, his voice heavy with remorse. “It saddens andangers us that Nasume could still harm you. We regret failing you.”
Maseo’s heart hammered against his ribs as he processed the implications of those words. It felt improper to push for details, but he knew he might never get another chance to ask. “Does this have anything to do with my father’s claims you would rather be with me than him?”
Shame radiated from the dragon king as he pulled his hand back, his expression closing off into neutral lines. “We intended to punish him for ambushing us and anger him enough to make him leave. But we did not realize until it was too late what effect our thoughtless words would have on you. The last thing we wanted was for you to be harmed by his hands.”
Maseo’s mind reeled. He had assumed his father’s claims were nothing more than jealous delusions. “He was telling the truth?”
“For once.” Kitsuki’s dragon’s expression darkened with self-recrimination. “While we are satisfied with our mate, it was not a lie to say that if our only choice were you or your father, we would choose you. But we should have known better than to express that to someone as vindictive and hateful as he is.”
