Page 110 of Crown of Briars
He snorted. “Would you use a butter knife for sharp, precise cuts?”
“Are you comparing your fearsome claws to the dull ends of butter knives?”
He chuckled again. “No. But my claws are for ripping large chunks of flesh, like wild game.”
“And enemies.”
His face sobered. “Yes. That, too. Unless you want your arm to be cut to ribbons, I would recommend this.” He waved the dagger before bringing it to my wrist—the same spot where Tislora had extracted blood from me before the wedding.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
I nodded. The blade pressed into my flesh. A pinprick of pain, and then the blood began flowing. Varius immediately brought the vial to catch each drop of blood. When it was full, he ripped off a piece of fabric from the bottom of his tunic and held it to the wound.
“Unfortunately, I lack Tislora’s skills in healing,” Varius said with a grimace. “So you’ll have to have this bandaged.”
I tilted my head at him and smirked. “It’s only a small cut. How fragile do you think I am? I just have to apply pressure until the bleeding stops, and it’ll be fine. It probably won’t even scar.”
Varius frowned and gazed down at my forearm, as if this information perplexed him.
I couldn’t help myself. “Perhapsmybody will surprise you with what it can do, too.”
His eyes snapped to mine, and they seemed to burn right through me, scorching my blood. Heat pooled between my legs, and I knew he could sense it.
But I didn’t care.
“You make bold statements, wife.” His voice took on that low and husky sound again. I could have sworn he was doing it on purpose, as if he knew exactly what it did to me.
“Does it bother you?”
“Not at all. In fact, it does quite the opposite.” He leaned closer.
My mind was spinning. What would the opposite ofbotheredbe? Excited? Amused?
Aroused?
All thoughts fled my mind when his gaze dipped to my mouth. My breath hitched, and a deep sound rumbled from his throat, a cross between a growl and a groan. He lifted a hand, his forefinger hooking under my chin. The claw of his thumb tugged at my bottom lip, prying my mouth open. I held perfectly still as that claw traveled downward, dragging gently down my chin. I suppressed a shiver as my awareness homed in on that singular sensation of the sharpened tip pressing against my flesh.
But I was not afraid.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll cut you?” His voice was a murmur, his breath tickling my face.
“No,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
“You wouldn’t be a very competent king if you couldn’t control your claws.”
He huffed a soft laugh at that. “So, my beastly form does not frighten you?”
“No. It never has.”
He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest and warming my body. He withdrew a step, putting distance between us. I couldn’t help the crushing disappointment that swept over me at the absence of his heat.
“Perhaps it should.” He corked the vial and turnedaway from me.
I deflated, my shoulders sagging. Still, my pulse continued to race, and I knew my face was flushed again.
“I’ll see that Tislora gets this for her elixir.” Before he reached the door, he turned to look at me, his face a mask I couldn’t read. “I can’t promise she won’t discern your fae bloodline. It’s possible that, when she inspects the blood, she’ll know.”
