Pain woke me first. Dull. Hot. Like a brand pressed under my ribs.
Then warmth. His chest. His heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Alive.
I was in the bed from last night. Fire cracked in the hearth. Furs piled over me. And Damien. Still holding me. Like he hadn’t let go for one second.
His arm was under my neck. The other hand rested on my side, right over the bandages. Healer’s magic glowed faint under his fingers. Warmth seeped into my skin.
“Stop,” I croaked. Voice rough from blood and screaming.
His hand stilled immediately. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” I lied. “Stop wasting magic on me. You need it for the war.”
Damien’s black eyes opened. He’d been watching me sleep. Of course he had. “The war can wait. You can’t.”
He sat up, pulled me with him so my head rested on his chest. His lips brushed
