Page 119 of Bite The Power That Feeds

“It’s going to be a while before you can move.”

“I know,” I said. “But I’m alive…so I can be patient.”

* * *

Larisa showered and changed her clothes. It was the first time she took care of herself because she had been too afraid to leave my side. Now she was in a dress, with her brown hair clean and combed. She fed me vials of blood regularly, donations from the humans we’d liberated.

She brought me pain medicine, stuff that she used to use in Raventower. She mixed it with the blood she fed me to mask the taste, and when it kicked in, I finally relaxed. The constant pain made it harder to sleep, but once she chased that away, I was able to rest.

I finally asked the question that was on my mind. “Why hasn’t my father come to visit?”

She sat in the chair at my bedside, not sharing the bed with me because she was afraid she would accidentally press on something she shouldn’t and hurt me. “He wasn’t sure if you’d want to speak with him. I told him I would let him know if you asked for him.”

I stared at her face, feeling both anger and affection for my father.

“He didn’t want to upset you while you’re trying to heal.”

“I want to see him.”

“Alright.” She left the chair and walked out of the bedchambers.

Fang perched up to meet my gaze.You’re feeling better if you want to sssee him.

I suppose.

I’ll bite him if you wisssh.

That won’t be necessary, Fang.

He coiled back into the ball.

A moment later, my father entered. Larisa must have stayed elsewhere because she didn’t join us. In his king’s uniform, he approached, his look of affection replacing his typical coldness. He walked up to my bedside and placed his hand on the back of my neck, gripping me the way he had when I was a boy, in one of the few places I was uninjured. “You look a lot better.”

“I look better than I feel. My bones are still broken.”

“It takes time. There’s a lot more trauma than those broken bones that your body has to heal.” He released me and sat in the chair Larisa had vacated. One ankle rested on the opposite knee, and his hands came together in front of him, elbows propped on the armrests. He just stared at me.

I stared back. “Thank you…for saving me.”

“Don’t thank me, son.”

“Were you injured?”

“A scratch in comparison to you.”

“I saw him throw you against the wall.”

He gave a subtle shrug. “I’m not back to where I was, but I will be. Whatever the consequences may have been, they were worth it. Your life is more valuable than mine will ever be.”

I didn’t know he felt that way. He never shared affection with me, either physically or verbally. “I’m glad you’re well.”

His stare absorbed mine for a while. “You mean that?”

I nodded.

“You forgive me?”

“I do.”