Page 81 of Kneel with the King
“I doubt my leg is broken,” I say, wiggling my toes in my boot.
“All right, here’s what we’re going to do,” he answers, putting his hands on his hips. “I need to help you up to the trail, and then I need to go find help. We can’t be that far from the retreat, right?”
Before I can answer, he pulls his ski jacket off and places it over me. He’s only wearing a skintight thermal underneath, and my eyes drag lazily over his biceps.
“You know, you’re kind of a dick sometimes. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”
He grunts as he gently places his hands under me. “Can you sit up?”
I use my abdominal muscles to pull myself up, and my head throbs once, causing me to wince. His hands are still on my back, brushing the snow off my jacket.
“Okay. I’m going to help you stand. Don’t use your bad knee. Count of three?”
“I hope you’ve been lifting heavy in the gym, old man,” I mutter, grabbing onto his hand as he hefts me up into a standing position. I hop on one leg, using one hand to check the back of my head. It’s wet—so it’s either snow or blood.
“Am I bleeding?” I ask, pulling my hand away.
Asher quickly moves behind me, and I can feel the hard press of his body against my back as I pull his jacket tighter around my body.
“I don’t see any blood, but I’ll make sure they check for a concussion.”
When he comes back around to face me, his expression is…worried?
“Okay,” he says, voice firm. Turning around, he crouches down and pats his back. “Hop on, asshole.”
I laugh and stare incredulously at his back. “What? You’re going to carry me?”
He looks at me over his shoulder, glaring. “If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”
I place both hands on his shoulders, and he crouches lower—low enough for him to reach around and grab the backs of my knees, using his strength to hoist me onto his back.
“Fuck, Ambrose. You weigh a literal ton,” he adds, voice strained as he slowly walks us up the steep side of the mountain.
“A ton of muscle. And my dick, of course.”
He snorts, and I smile. I like that I made him laugh, even if he’s currently just taking pity on me. Probably.
It doesn’t take him long. He has us back on the trail in under a minute. I expect him to drop me, but instead, he gently lowers me, his hands grazing the backs of my thighs and supporting my lower back until I find my footing on my good foot.
“Now what?” I ask, looking around.
“You sit on that rock,” he says, pointing at the large boulder on the side of the trail. “Don’t go to sleep—I know that much about concussions.” Looking down at my knee, he then crouches down and gathers some clean snow, placing it against the gash.
“Fuck. A warning would’ve been nice,” I hiss.
“You’re welcome for saving you from flesh-eating bacteria. You can thank me later.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Oh yeah? I have ideas for how I can thank you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Right. You—sit,” he says, voice commanding. I’m used to being the one in charge, and it’s kind of hilarious to see him do it for once. He’s hot when he’s dominating. It’s too bad I don’t have a submissive bone in my body, otherwise I might enjoy switching roles with him. “I’mgoing to jog back to the retreat to get help. The others should be back soon, too.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He stares at me. “That’s your name, not mine.”
I grin. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”
Huffing an exasperated breath, he looks at me once more and shrugs. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t die,” he adds, winking once before turning and jogging away.
