Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
“Like this.” And he lifts my hand to his mouth and sweeps his tongue from my wrist all the way up to my elbow.
The hot, wet sensation sends a shiver down my spine.
“Oh!” I gasp, and try to yank my hand away. But Valen won’t let me.
“No, let me heal you,” he insists. “It’s bad to have open wounds in the forest—you could get sick.”
“You can’t heal someone by licking them!” I protest.
“Oh no? Take a look.” He nods at my arm.
I look down and, to my surprise, he’s right. The area where he licked me is healed. There are no scratches or wounds or even scars—no marks of any kind. It’s almost like he magically erased all the damage the thorns did.
“How…how did you do that?” I whisper, turning my arm back and forth in the firelight. It doesn’t change—the area he licked is still healed.
“I told you—my Drake’s power. He likes you, you know,” he adds in a low voice.
I feel a surge of fear.
“If you—or he—are doing this because you think I’ll let him…let him breed me—”
“No, I don’t think that.” He sighs. “I know your people would consider that beast-loving—though to be fair, he’s a person just like you or me, he just happens to have scales and a tail and wings.”
“But you said it to me the other night,” I point out.
“Yes, I said a lot of things. I was angry. I’m still angry.” He touches the collar around his throat. “But you and I made a deal—once we get the Healing Draught for your mother and I take you home, I’m free. Until then, we need to work together. And since I can’t have you dying from infection before we finish this quest, you’re going to need to let me heal you.”
Then he tightens his grip on my wrist and begins licking me in earnest. I shiver and bite back a gasp as his warm, wet tongue caresses my flesh, moving up and down my arm until I’m all healed.
Well, my arm is, anyway.
When Valen finishes my arm, he sits back and looks at me critically.
“Is that all? The only place you got hurt?”
“Yes, that’s all—just my arm,” I say quickly. I’m not saying anything about the way the vines wrapped around my breasts. And I’m especially not going to tell him how one pierced my nipple—even though to be honest, that area does feel quite achy and hot and painful right now.
Valen narrows his eyes. He leans closer and inhales deeply. Then he sits back, frowning.
“I can tell you’re lying, Princess,” he growls. “I can smell it. So come on—where else did the thorns pierce your flesh? Tell me. Or better yet—show me.”
I bite my lower lip and find I can’t meet his eyes.
“They…they got inside my shift,” I admit at last, because apparently there’s no use lying. Though how he can smell my untruth, I don’t know—maybe it’s more of his Drake’s magic. “They…they wound around my breasts,” I add in a low voice.
“Let me see.” He makes an impatient gesture with one hand, as though it’s no big deal for me to take down the top of the tattered gown of rags I’m wearing to bare myself to him.
But that is exactly what I end up doing. I tug at the strings holding the top together and let it fall, pooling at my waist. This frees my too-large breasts, which are covered in thorn marks.
Valen sucks in a breath.
“Gods, baby,” he murmurs. “Those fucking thorns—look what they did to you!”
“I know,” I whisper. “I…I’m afraid I’ll have scars. My breasts are already ugly and scars will only make them worse.”
“Ugly?” He looks up at me, and the expression on his darkly handsome face is honestly incredulous. “What the fuck would make you think that?”
How can I explain to him what the standard of beauty at the Castle is? How any woman who has breasts bigger than a teacup is considered too big…too much? Vulgar is the word I’ve heard most often applied to my figure, as though I grew these overflowing curves to please myself and show off, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I just refuse to live exclusively on clear broth and vegetables.
“They’re too big,” I say at last. “All of me is too big.”
“You’re perfect, just the way you are,” he growls softly. “And your breasts are fucking gorgeous.”
He cups one of my heavy breasts in one big hand and examines the thorn marks. His eyes blaze with sudden anger when he sees the full extent of the damage.
“Look at this! That tree—that ‘Old Man Oak’—if I see it, I’m going to burn the fucking thing to the fucking ground!”
“I hope we don’t see it again.” I give another involuntary shiver at the thought. “It was horrifying.”
“Well the fucking thing is going to be ashes if I find it,” he says. Then he takes a deep breath as though he’s trying to calm himself down. “For now, though, we need to get you healed.”