Page 50 of Healer to the Ash King
The Ash King lets out a broken gasp, twitching helplessly.
I love that sound. I want to hear it over and over—I don’t think I will ever be tired of it.
But I dare not take too long with him, or I will lose my nerve. I will begin to think of my village, and how this act of mine, secret though it is, might be a kind of betrayal. Rince would look at me with such deep disgust and disappointment; Brayda might actually cut my fingers off—oh gods.
I did it—I made the mistake ofthinking, and now—
My gaze travels the Ash King’s powerful body, motionless except for his quick breaths. He’s lovely like this, bathed in soft warm light. His eyes are still closed—he is blind to everything but the sensations I’m giving him.
This man is my king. Ruler of the entire kingdom. Murderer and punisher. Wielder of a power that could raze the lands I love. Why do I struggle to grasp that reality in this moment? Why can’t I see anything but a weary, lonely man who comes to me with hunger and hope in his eyes?
His hands are splayed rigid against the sheets. I want to pick one of them up, caress the tendons, circle those prominent male knuckles—but that would be too tender, too intimate. I am massaging him, helping him sleep. That is all.
My fingers are still slippery from the ointment. I slide both hands over his hard length, one stroking the shaft, the other polishing the tip. After a few moments, I switch to one hand and pump firmly, with an expert press of my thumb in a sensitive place just beneath the head. My other hand cups his balls, massaging them gently.
He comes with a low cry, his release sprinkling his own stomach and chest. A violent clenching of every muscle in his incredible body, and then he goes boneless in my bed, his handsome face perfectly smooth.
“See,” he whispers. “I don’t ejaculate lava.”
He overheard Teagan and I talking during the journey to the Capital, before I realized how keen his ears were.
I smile at the memory, soothing him with a few more comforting strokes along the softening shaft.
“Your massage is complete, Your Majesty,” I say. “Do you think you can sleep now?”
“If I can manage to move from here to my own bed. Which I must, since my guards check on me now and then through the night.”
“That must be annoying.” I slide off the bed and take a cloth from the dressing table.
“It is, sometimes.” He catches the cloth I toss to him and wipes his body with it. “Tonight I told them not to disturb me for a couple of hours. I had plans to seduce you, you see.”
“Really?” I give him my most innocent, wide-eyed look of surprise. “Gracious gods.”
“After so many denials, I did not expect to succeed.” He regards me keenly.
I bristle a little. “You didn’t succeed.”
“I suppose not. A challenge for another day, then.”
“You told me you were only interested in my magic.”
“Kings are experts in matters of delicate deceit.”
“And that is one reason I decline, my Lord. Tonight was a mercy of mine, to help you sleep. Nothing more.”
“Mercy?” His cheeks crease as he grins, the widest smile I’ve seen from him. “It felt precious near to cruelty. You’ve practiced that torturous art before, yes?”
“I have a past, as you do.”
At the pointed reminder, his smile vanishes, and I almost regret the comment. But I need to put distance between us again, or he might never leave my bed.
“I will see you at the Third Challenge tomorrow, Healer,” says the Ash King, rising and moving to the door between our rooms. “Rest well. You will need all your strength.”
The tiny orbs of fire linger near my ceiling for a little while once he’s gone. But eventually they wink out, one at a time, and the room feels colder without them.
18
“This is madness,” I say under my breath.
