Page 139 of The King has Fallen
“I love your touch too,” I murmured. “Feeling your weight on me… Feeling your claws in my back,” I rumbled, grinning and raising my eyebrows.
I smiled broader when her cheeks pinked.
“You big oaf,” she muttered, hiding her face in her hands.
I chuckled, but pulled her hands away from her face when it was obvious that she was truly self-conscious.
“Yilan, don’t be embarrassed with me. Ever. Iadoreit when you want me. God, loving you is the most thrilling thing I’ve ever done.”
She lifted her chin enough that I could see her eyes over her fingers. “Truly?”
“Truly,” I said. When she smiled and dropped her hands, I grinned again. “Definitely worth a few more scars.”
She spluttered and slapped my chest as I laughed.
But suddenly there were footsteps, the tent flap snapped and a deep voice hushed, “Melek, I found Gall—oh shit!”
Yilan gasped as I rolled to my stomach, pushing her to my side, snapping my wings out to cover her, and snarling at Jann. But even though he’d turned his back to give her modesty, he didn’t leave.
“Jann, get the fuck out of here,now!”
Yilan twitched under my wing, but didn’t push it back because she was completely naked.
‘I can’t—Melek, he’s coming. You have to—”
“Who’s coming?”
“Ga—”
Jann tensed as the tent flap twitched back again and Gall entered, a spear gripped in his hand, and in full uniform.
I frowned and lifted my head. “Gall, what are you doing dressed? It’s still the Days of Peace—”
“I asked him to show me where your tent was.” That voice, so deep and bored—and just slightly slurred—chilled my blood, because it was immediately followed by the appearance of Gault, the King. He strode into the tent, ducking to get in through the door, then stopping two steps inside to straighten and survey my tent with a pompous frown, as if he were slightly repulsed. “Is this truly how you live? How… humble of you.”
Under my wing, Yilan startled and twitched.
I froze, reaching out under my wing to grasp her hand but unable to find it and unwilling to look away from Gault.
The King.In my tent.And he’d followed Gall. His son.
Myson. Who now stood a few feet inside the doorway, staring at me, his brows drawing tighter and tighter over his nose.
What the fuck was going on?
“Gault—I mean, Sire—”
“I’d heard you were busy, Thewhole campheard,” he said with a leering smile, but there was a glint in his eyes that raised the hair on the back of my neck.
I looked at Gall, but he was staring at me with the strangest expression. I couldn’t tell if it was pleading, or hopeful, or… something else. I frowned, then turned back to Gault.
“To what do I owe this… unexpected honor?” I asked carefully, praying Gault wouldn’t notice my wing twitching as Yilan moved under there, presumably to pull the fur around herself. Still on my stomach, I leaned slightly away to give her as much room to maneuver as possible, praying she’d manage it in time. There was no way Gault was going to allow me to—
“Lift your wing, Melek,” he purred in a deep, guttural voice that filled my head with visions of slitting his throat.
“Sire,” I said sharply, then looked at Gall—whose face was pale. “He isn’t—”
“Lift. Your. Wing, Melek,”Gault said, no hint of a smile or suggestive purr this time, but every ounce of the entitlement of King who was absolutely within his rights to require me to reveal what I had hidden.
