Chapter 6: After the Blood

Kael didn’t stop until they reached the private wing of the manor, the part no one entered without his permission.

He kicked the door shut behind them. Set Elara down gently on the edge of the massive bed. Then he knelt in front of her, silver eyes scanning every inch of her like he was cataloging wounds for later vengeance.

Her forearm bled steadily. The slashes were deep, four angry red lines from elbow to wrist. Her ribs ached with every breath. A bruise was already blooming along her cheekbone where Lira’s fist had grazed her.

He took her injured arm in careful hands.

“Hold still.”

He leaned in and, without warning, licked the wounds.

Elara gasped. The contact was warm, wet, strangely intimate. She felt the faint rasp of his tongue, then something else, warmth spreading, tingling, numbing the worst of the pain.

“What are you...”

“Werewolf saliva,” he murmured against her skin. “Heals faster than anything human. Especially for mates.”

He continued, slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue along each cut. The bleeding slowed. The edges began to knit together before her eyes.

When the deepest slash closed he pulled back, lips stained faintly red. He met her gaze.

“Better?”

She nodded, breathless. “Much.”

He moved to her ribs next. Lifted the hem of her tunic with careful fingers. The skin there was already mottled purple and black.

He pressed his palm flat against the bruise. Heat poured from his hand, deliberate, controlled. The ache dulled almost instantly.

“You scared me,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life. Until I watched you step into that circle.”

She touched his jaw. “I had to.”

“I know.” He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “But if you ever do anything that reckless again without telling me first, I’ll chain you to this bed for a month.”

She laughed, soft, shaky. “Promises.”

His mouth curved. Then he kissed her.

This time it was slower. Deeper. His hands slid under her tunic, palms warm against her bare skin. He traced the curve of her waist, the dip of her spine. She arched into him without thinking.

He growled low in his throat—pleased, possessive.

When he pulled back they were both breathing hard.

“I want you,” he said. “All of you. But not like this, not when you’re still bleeding and bruised.”

“I’m healing,” she whispered.

“Not fast enough.” He stood, pulled her up with him. “Bath first. Then bed. Then… we’ll see.”

He led her through an arched doorway into a smaller chamber she hadn’t noticed before. A deep stone tub sat in the center, already steaming. Someone, probably one of the silent servants, had prepared it while they were gone. Petals of night-blooming jasmine floated on the surface. The scent was heady, intoxicating.

Kael stripped her without hurry. Tunic. Pants. Undergarments. Every piece removed with reverence, as though he were unwrapping something sacred.

When she stood bare before him he stepped back and looked.

Not hungry this time. Reverent.

“Gods,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

He guided her into the water.

Heat enveloped her instantly, sweet relief for every aching muscle. She sank down until only her head remained above the surface.

Kael stripped himself next, efficient, unselfconscious. Then he slid in behind her, pulling her back against his chest.

His arms wrapped around her waist. One hand splayed across her stomach, the other resting between her breasts, over her heart.

They stayed like that for long minutes. Just breathing. Just feeling.

“I didn’t expect to care this much,” he said against her hair. “The bond is one thing. But this… this is more.”

She turned her head to look at him. “What is this?”

He kissed her temple. “Something dangerous. Something I’ve never had before.”

She reached back and threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Then let’s be dangerous together.”

He smiled against her skin, slow, wicked.

“Careful what you wish for, little human.”

He washed her then, carefully, thoroughly. Soap that smelled of cedar and herbs. His hands were gentle on her bruises, firm on her thighs. By the time he finished she was boneless, warm, aching in an entirely different way.

He lifted her out, wrapped her in thick towels, carried her back to the bed.

They slid under the furs naked.

He pulled her close, chest to chest, legs tangled.

“No more fighting today,” he murmured. “Just this.”

She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat.

“Just this.”

But even as sleep tugged at her, she felt it, the faint prickle at the back of her neck. The sense that someone was watching.

Not in the room.

Not yet.

Somewhere deeper in the manor, something stirred.

Something that didn’t approve of a human bride.

Something that was waiting for the right moment.

Elara closed her eyes anyway.

For now, she was safe.

For now, she was his.

And that was enough.