Page 27 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

“No. I’m fine.” My voice sounds weak and slurred even to my own ears.

“You’re angry and independent, but you’re not fine. The sheets and mattress are soaked with your blood. It’s either me or I’m calling an ambulance and taking you to the hospital.”

“They’ll find you.”

“Then I’m your only option.”

I’m about to protest, but panic flares in my chest. I’m in trouble. If our enemies were to break through the door right now, I couldn’t lift my head, let alone fight to keep him safe. I can’t fail Da on my first day as a Sacred Squire.

“Let me heal you, Scottie. Please.”

I want to refuse, but the dizziness swaying my vision forces me to reconsider. I give him a reluctant nod, unable to muster the strength to argue.

Zane pulls back the covers gently, his touch surprisingly tender. The cool air of the room hits my heated skin, making me shiver. He carefully removes the makeshift bandaging I applied after my shower, then he curses.

“You should’ve let me do this earlier,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of reproach and worry. “You’re as stubborn as your father.”

I can’t argue with that.

I groan as a second damp cloth—this one incredibly warm—gently swipes across the planes of my belly and down my ribs to my hip. The contact is soothing the throbbing ache of the gash, but doing little to stem the flow of blood.

“Hold still.”

If I had the energy, I would remind him I’m in no state to go anywhere. If I was, he wouldn’t be about to press his mouth to my flesh.

The mattress dips as he leans closer, his warm breath giving me goosebumps as his tongue swipes over the exposed skin of my rib and hip. I think I hear him groan, but my head is spinning, and I might have imagined it.

Drugging pleasure leaches into my system and the ache and sorrow I’ve been drowning under for hours eases. His hand slides across the plane of my belly, his fingers splaying as he nuzzles and licks my wound. The sensation is erotic, and I fight to keep my heart in check.

This is about healing—nothing more.

When we were kids, it wasn’t uncommon for him to lick my knee or suck on my finger if I got hurt while we were playing. It was no big deal. It wasn’t even weird.

This doesn’t feel like that.

With his body curled protectively over mine, the ebony silk of his hair brushes my navel as his tongue sweeps in languid strokes across my bare hip and side.

My eyes roll back as my hips raise to his attention. He slides his other hand under my butt, capturing me in his hold, locking me against his mouth.

A throaty groan vibrates against my skin, and a rush of heat hits my core. I’m so turned on… I can’t help but…

No. Not again. Never again.

He broke me… my trust… my heart…

I fight the sensations and ignore how my cells tingle, how my blood warms, how my core thrums with kinetic anticipation…It’s just a healing… means nothing.

This is a practical lifeline.

“Shh, Scots. Stop fighting me and let me take the pain away. Relax. I’ve got you.”

I raise a heavy hand and rest it against his head, my fingers toying with the ebony silk. As his mouth moves over my ribs, his tongue strokes my flesh, and the pain of the gash is gone—replaced by pleasure.

All Fondatori royals have a gift that runs through their bloodline. Some can shift, others can fly. Some have command over one of the earth elements.

Francesco and Zane possess mind abilities… something to do with dream manipulation and telepathy. I’m not sure—because Zane never spoke of it—but being with someone every moment of your life, you pick up things.

On top of that, all true-blood vampires can call blood.

---