Page 98 of Courting War
So he did.
Hoc dicto sana quod laesum est, carnem renova
“Scoop up dirt, wet it, and pack it into my wounds,” she said.
“Truly?”
“The earth heals.”
He followed her orders, packing the earth into her jagged skin. His every touch on her skin was gunfire, piercing and inescapable, consuming him in ways that weren’t appropriate for the moment.
When he was finished, she spoke the incantation. As the words left her lips, a silver light emanated from the dirt, enchantment dancing through it and stitching her wounds together. It was like watching a master painter work, mesmerizing and unreal. Morrigan smiled, and the sight was astonishing, almost more so than the magic. Her smile was radiant like stained glass in a stream of silver moonlight.
The magic worked quickly, and within moments she could move again with minimal discomfort.
Scooping up the dirt, she glanced at him. “May I?”
He grunted his approval, but her eyes fixed on his chest, and she made no movements to help him. “It might be easier ifyou were over there.” She pointed to the swing, “Easier to access the wounds.”
He followed her command again. He liked following her orders. She was like a grand general of the fiercest army in the world, and he trusted her.
Morrigan followed him to the swing, and she slowly lifted his shirt and removed it. Her touch was pure bottled tension, causing desire to burst inside him. Gently, she packed his wound, her fingers dancing over his skin.
“You were brilliant in the challenge.” Her breath caressed his neck.
“Thank you.”
The incantation left her rose lips, the sound like molten magic, and the sensation of the spell was like heaven. A waterfall of warmth cascaded through his body, stitching muscles, and leaving pristine flesh in its wake. His blood sizzled, but instead of pain, it was life-giving, like drinking from the fountain of youth. The feeling was intoxicating and electrifying. It was a drug, and he wanted to feel it over and over again. He wanted to bathe in it. To let it consume him. It was the pure, unfiltered energy of life.
The strings of life.
It felt like divine threads were merging with his mortal ones—like an extra one was braided into his mortal three, giving him vitality and power. When the sensation ended, Morrigan didn’t remove her fingers. They hovered on his skin, and her lips hovered behind his ear.
Kellyn gulped, trying to reel in the passion stirring at his core. He needed a distraction. “What are you, Morrigan?”
“I don’t understand your meaning,Your Highness.” Her lips touched his ear, and he shuddered.
Oh, she was going to kill him, but he decided to double down. “You’re so much more than you say you are.”
“Am I?” she asked, stepping around the swing to hover in front of him.
“Your knowledge of the gods is unmatched, and your beauty rivals Love herself.”
“Don’t let her catch you saying that; she might start a war over it.” Another step closer. He couldn’t tell if it was an intimidation tactic or something else, but her legs nearly touched his knees, and she looked down on him.
He inhaled sharply, her nearness pulling apart his control. Not because he was afraid of her—which she may want—but because he wanted her.
“That’s precisely what I mean. You know the gods almost as if you were one of them.”
“One of them,” she said the words as if they tasted foul.
“Yes—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “You should stop.” The jolt of her flesh against his sent flames of desire through him and held his breath, the rosemary and vanilla scent of her too intoxicating.
His lips remembered the taste of her. The softness. The fire. The war. The pure pleasure. Kellyn sucked in an unsteady breath. Her amethyst eyes held his, staring down from above like a goddess on her high throne.
He wanted to be that throne.
