Page 39 of A Dagger in the Ivy (Blade Bound #1)
C Hapter
My body is buzzing with comfort. The steady rhythm of warm breaths on my neck brings me to the realization that I’m not alone. I blink, remembering exactly where I am.
Dante’s bed.
His arm is wrapped around me, and his hand is under the shirt I’m wearing—his shirt—palming my breast. We fell asleep with my back against his chest, and we’re in the same position now, except now I can feel the hard length of his cock pressed against my ass. And I’m not wearing anything below my waist.
I assume he’s still asleep, based on the slowness of his breathing, but when his cock twitches, I can’t be sure.
And I can’t stop my body from reacting.
My nipples are hard. I squeeze my thighs together, nervous that he’ll discover the moisture forming between my legs.
He shifts, and his cock glides against me. I hold back a gasp and turn my head to look over my shoulder. His lips are on the back of my shoulder, but his eyes are closed.
When his hand releases my breast and begins to travel down my belly, I panic and turn around to face him. I pull down the shirt to cover myself, and his eyes open, the deep grey locked on me instantly.
No matter how much I want him to keep touching me, I can’t let it happen. There are too many questions to be answered.
The morning light filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the room. For a moment, I simply watch Dante, my heart fluttering with a mixture of emotions. The events of the previous day weigh heavily on my mind, the memory of our harrowing escape still fresh in my thoughts. But despite the danger and uncertainty that surrounds us, there is a sense of calm in this moment, a fleeting respite from the chaos of our reality.
Dante brings his hand up to my cheek and pushes locks of my hair away from my face. It feels as if there is an unspoken understanding between us, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed. In his eyes, I see traces of weariness and vulnerability, but beneath it all, there is resilience that speaks volumes.
“What are you thinking?” he asks in a low, rumbly voice.
“I’m wondering if your wound is healing. I’m wondering what we’re going to do about your brother. What to tell the king.” It’s not a lie. I am thinking about those things, and I’m also trying not to think about how wet I am.
He takes a deep, long breath, his gaze flitting around my face. “My wound hurts like fuck.”
I let out a laugh before I can control myself. “I’m so sorry.”
“As for the other things, I’m wondering about them too.” He turns onto his back, covering his face with his arm. “My mind and my heart don’t want to accept that that monster we saw was my brother. I’ve seen his temper before, his dark side, but I think… I didn’t want to believe it was his true nature.”
I clasp my hands together to keep from reaching out to him. His wound needs to heal, and I don’t want to hurt him. But most of all, I’m afraid if I touch him, I won’t be able to stop myself. “I know. I feel the same.”
With the impossibilities of our situation whipping through my mind like a tornado, I push myself up, slipping to the edge of the bed and swinging my legs over the side. We can’t stay here. We need to get to Ivystone.
“I should check your wound before we head back to the castle.”
He nods, moving slowly to sit on the edge of the bed. I retrieve my dagger from the washroom, where I left it to dry after washing off all the mud, and use it to cut another long strip of cloth from the sheet I destroyed yesterday. I return to Dante and kneel in front of him, carefully unwrapping the bandages. As the last layer falls away, I assess the damage. I’m pleasantly surprised that the wound that had been so raw and angry last night is now much smaller, the edges already knitting together in a way that seems almost impossible.
“It looks better,” I say softly.
“Still hurts like hell.”
“Healing usually does.”
I gently touch the skin around the wound, inspecting it closely. “There’s still a way to go, but the progress is remarkable. At this rate, the stitches might be more harm than help.” I pick up my dagger and carefully start cutting the thread. “If we leave them in, it could get harder to remove them later, especially as you heal. It’s better to take them out now.”
Dante remains still as I work, his gaze fixed on me. I can feel the weight of his stare, but I don’t look up until the last stitch is gone. “This will also reduce the risk of infection,” I add, reaching for the clean strip of cloth. Before I wrap it around him, I pause, my hand hovering over the wound.
“Let me give it another boost.” I place my palm gently against his skin, feeling the warmth of his body beneath my touch. I close my eyes and focus, channeling my magic into the injury. The energy flows through me, into him.
When I finally pull my hand away, I meet his eyes. There’s something unspoken between us in that moment, something deeper than words. But before I can dwell on it, I force myself to remember our duty. “We need to get back to the castle,” I say, more of a reminder to myself than to him. “The king needs to know about Torbin.” I carefully wrap the new bandage around his abdomen, my fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave this small cabin, this fragile peace we’ve found, but duty calls. And as much as I might wish otherwise, there’s no escaping it.
He stiffens his jaw as he stands, and I keep my eyes on him for a moment longer in my kneeling position before I get to my feet.
The next moments are full of frantic anticipation and worry. We hurry to dress and gather our things. Once we’re set, we sheathe our weapons and head outside, and I’m relieved to find the horses nearby.
As we prepare to leave the manor, a prickling sensation creeps up the back of my neck, and I sense eyes upon us. With a quick glance around, I catch a glimpse of movement among the trees, a shadowy figure skulking in the underbrush. Instinct takes over, and I dart forward, my boots pounding against the forest floor as I give chase.
“Wait here, Dante!” I call over my shoulder, my heart pounding in my chest as adrenaline surges through my veins. The figure ahead moves with surprising agility, ducking and weaving through the dense foliage as if they know these woods better than anyone. I can’t see his face because his hood hangs over his head.
I push myself harder, determination fueling my strides as I close the distance between us. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my thundering heart drowning out all other noise as I focus on catching our elusive spy. But just as I’m about to reach him, a pack of wolves emerges from the shadows, their growls echoing through the forest.
I skid to a halt, my heart pounding as the wolves circle around us, their eyes glinting with predatory intent. The spy turns to watch the pack, and when he looks in my direction, I can see the bottom half of his face. There’s something familiar about the features, something that makes my skin crawl. It’s Osrem, Torbin’s advisor.
What the fuck is he doing out here?
Osrem pulls a dagger from his cloak, and I can see a sneer beneath the shadows of his hood.
The wolves snarl, and fear grips me as I realize I’m trapped, caught between Osrem and the hungry pack of predators. As the wolves encircle us, their growls grow more pronounced, and a sudden realization washes over me like a wave crashing against the shore. They’re not growling at me—they’re growling at Osrem, their attention focused solely on him. A strange sense of reassurance floods through me, as if a silent understanding passes between these creatures of the forest and me.
Have the wolves been on my side all this time? My mind quickly flashes through the times I’ve been out sleepwalking, waking to find myself lost, hearing the sounds of their howls. What I’ve thought were howls of threats may have been warning calls. As if they’ve been watching over me from afar. The idea feels surreal yet oddly comforting, like discovering an unseen guardian whose intent is to protect me.
With newfound resolve, I stand tall, my gaze locked on the spy who now stands frozen in fear, facing the wrath of the wolves. The growling animals stand between me and Osrem, drawn back on their haunches, ready to pounce.
Osrem suddenly darts through a narrow break in the trees, his cloak whipping behind him. The wolves are on him in an instant, their growls echoing through the woods as they give chase. I watch, my breath caught in my throat, as the shadows of their sleek bodies blur into the darkness. Osrem stumbles, nearly falling, but somehow regains his footing and surges forward. The last glimpse I catch of him is his wild, desperate glance over his shoulder before the forest swallows him whole.
For a moment, I consider pursuing, but the snarls and snapping of jaws fade quickly into the distance. I know better than to follow; I need to get back to Dante. Turning on my heel, I retrace my steps through the foliage, the forest eerily silent now except for the sound of my own footsteps. The urgency that drove me to chase Osrem now pulls me back toward the horses, and toward Dante.
When I get back, Dante watches me. His eyes scan me as if checking if I’m all right.
“What happened?” he asks, coming closer.
“It was Osrem. I don’t know what he was doing here, but he managed to slip away.” I try to steady my heartbeat. “Though I can’t be sure he got far. There were wolves in the woods, and they chased after him.”
His widened eyes go from me to the woods and back again. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” I gesture to the horses. “We should head out.”
“Are you sure you don’t need a minute?”
“I’m afraid we’re going to lose time. Are you able to mount?”
Dante’s gaze follows mine, as if measuring how badly he might hurt himself by climbing up Lightning. “I can manage.”
I attempt to help him, but he manages to mount his horse with a grunt.
Once we’re both settled in our saddles, Dante’s brow furrows in thought. “Why would he be spying on us? You think Torbin sent him?”
I shake my head, feeling a mix of anger and unease. “I can’t be sure. First we need to speak to the king, then we can try to figure out what Torbin is planning.”
At Ivystone, servants greet us with polite nods and curtseys and murmured words of welcome, but I barely register their presence as I hurry through the castle corridors with Dante by my side.
Each stride feels too slow, too laden with the weight of what we must reveal. We search the familiar rooms, our footsteps echoing against the stone walls, but the king is nowhere to be found. Panic begins to gnaw at the edges of my mind, threatening to consume me with its relentless grip.
Finally, we find him in his private wine chamber, a room I never even knew existed. Dante assures me the king spends time in here when he wants a respite.
But as Dante and I enter the room, we stop short at what we discover. My breath catches in my throat, and a cold wave of shock crashes over me. The king is not alone .
Standing across from where the king sits is Osrem.
And Torbin.