Page 18 of The Warlord's Wildflower
She whimpers, and my cock throbs against her hip. Fuck, I’m already so hard it hurts. I don’t give her a second to breathe, I bite her lower lip, tugging just enough to make her gasp, and she shudders against me. Her nails rake down my back, and I groan into her mouth. “Again,” I growl. She does it harder this time, and I swear to the Gods, I’ll have her screaming my name before the sun finishes setting.
I don’t care that we’re outside. That anyone could stumble upon us. Let them. Her breath comes in ragged little pants, her chest heaving against me, and I palm her large breast, rolling her silk-covered nipple between my fingers until she arches with a cry.
“Fenric!”
I’m seconds away from tearing her clothes off, from bending her over in the flowers and taking her—
Suddenly, she pulls back, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from my kisses.
“I-I’m sorry,” she breathes, looking up at me. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”
A rush of possessiveness surges through me.Mine.I’m the first. The only. I open my mouth to tell her exactly how much that turns me on—
And then, there’s a sudden white-hot sting on my neck. I jerk back, slapping a hand to the spot. What the fuck? Abee?
My throat begins to tighten. Shit. Shit!
I wheeze, clawing at my neck like something invisible is strangling me. My lungs refuse to work, each gasp thinner than the last. The world tilts, the sky spinning above me.
Notnow.
I was seconds away from having her, and now I’m choking on nothing. My body is betraying me at the worst possible fucking moment.
Annie’s eyes widen. “Fenric?”
I can’t answer her. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but collapse onto the grass, my muscles locking, my vision splintering at the edges. The last thing I see is her leaning over me, her hair a dark curtain against the sunset, her scream tearing through the air.
I was so Gods damn close.
Chapter Eleven
Annie
Ascream tears from my throat as my knees hit the grass beside him. His chest barely rises. His lips…Oh Gods, his lips are swelling, and his skin is flushing an awful, mottled red color.
“Fenric!” I shake him, but his lashes only flutter weakly.Think, Annie. Think!
Then I spot it. A tiny, crumpled bee on the path beside us.
Oh no, no, no, no…he’s allergic.
“Oh Gods!” I’m sobbing now, my hands flying to the pouch at my belt. My fingers fumble from trembling so badly that I almost drop it.Breathe, Annie. Just breathe.But how can I, whenhe can’t?
The herbs spill into my lap, a tangle of dried leaves and petals. Elda’s voice drifts through my terror.This one’s called elecampane. Opens the lungs like a breeze through a closed window.
I spot what I’m searching for: the soft yellow petals, now half-crushed. But there’s no water. No mortar and pestle. Nothing!Just me and him, and my heart racing with the decision.
I shove the elecampane into my mouth and chew. The bitterness makes me gag, but I grind my teeth harder until myjaw aches. I don’t even care. I chew until it’s a pulpy mess, then I spit into my hand.
I cradle his head and smear it against his swollen lips, pushing it into his mouth. His skin is burning under my touch. Please.Please.
He gasps. Just a little. It’s working, it has to.
Hope flares, and I grab more herbs, chewing and spitting again, pressing my green-stained hands to his mouth, his chest, his neck, anywhere the medicine might seep in. I cup my hands around his mouth and nose to hold in the scent. Maybe if he breathes it in, it’ll reach his lungs.
Breathe! Please.
“HELP!” I scream. “PLEASE, SOMEONE!”
