Page 82 of A Bond so Fierce and Fragile

Not that she would have let him, back then… He’d sensed how much she’d loathed him, after all—at least in those first few years.

A low sound rumbled in his chest as he remembered the scent of pure hatred that surrounded her every time he entered a room she was in, and he felt Lessia’s eyes landing on his face.

Turning toward her, he noticed the slight wince weaving across her face as the bed shifted, and if her eyes hadn’t been so soft, so full of love he wasn’t certain he deserved, he would have growled in defiance of the fucking king, and of this whole fucking world.

But that’s not what she needed right now, so Merrick gently lifted the hands she had in her lap instead, placing them in his own, and blinked against the crimson hue threatening his vision as he studied them.

They’d injured her so damned much.

But he’d fix it. If it was the last fucking thing he did, he would make her whole again.

After a quick glance at the sheets, he decided against using them for fresh bandages.

He didn’t want the king’s scent touching her skin.

Not for himself.

Well, notjustfor himself.

But for her.

Pulling his tunic over his head, Merrick didn’t care that he wouldn’t have another to wear.

He’d walk around naked for the rest of his life if that meant Lessia was warm, her wounds were bandaged, and she didn’t have to smell the male who’d hurt her so badly.

Who’d turned her into this…

The shell that sat before him.

He could sense she was still in there, though. The soft, gentle, beautiful soul that only wanted the world to be kind to everyone. But she’d hardened, the purpose he’d felt from her before now at the forefront of her mind, all else within her being pushed to the side.

He watched Lessia as he ripped the black tunic into long strips.

Her eyes moved deliberately over his torso, up over his face, then down again across his shoulders, over his stomach, and down to his crossed legs.

She was fucking memorizing what he looked like.

Savoring it.

As if… as if she might not be able to enjoy it much longer.

Again, he felt like growling. Like destroying something—perhaps this entire damned ship. But he forced himself not to—pulled on the last of his patience to keep his hands moving slowly and steadily.

Merrick started talking as he unraveled the already dirty bandages and checked on the deep wound on her wrist. “This will heal in a day or so.”

It already looked much better, especially compared to the broken fingers and hand he worked on next.

“This one will take longer.” Merrick traced his fingers over her pale skin, sensing the bone beneath it shifting. “You can’t use this hand at all for the next few days. It won’t heal right if you do.”

The wheezing breath falling from her lips told him she was hurting more than she let her body show, and he stilled for a second.

“It will be all right, Lessia. I… I will fix this.”

Merrick cursed to himself. He didn’t know what the fuck to say. There was so much to fix, and broken fingers were the least of it.

“You… you don’t need to fix this,” she whispered.

He was glad Frelina and Raine weren’t in the room.