Page 30 of Hunted (Love and Revenge #5)

Ruya

I smoothed a fresh layer of balm over Cicely’s warm skin, fingers trailing over a thin arc of scar tissue beneath his jaw, where Josh’s teeth had torn his skin.

The wound was healing too slowly for my liking.

The bite hadn’t reopened, but my magical senses told me the bruising remained.

Yukio described it to me as purple and “sickly green,” and I could sense it blooming like a shadow pressed beneath his skin. It was getting better. But so slowly.

It was only bruising and a scar, and yet.

.. it worried me. Aside from a few instances of long-standing severe injury or congenital deformity, I was used to my magic instantly healing all ills.

Cicely wasn’t in any immediate danger, but not being able to immediately restore him to perfect health was maddening.

What if some lingering bit of Acacia’s poisonous presence had leeched into my faun somehow?

Cicely sat beside me on the chaise, still as a statue while I tended to him. My fingers brushed his hair, curls damp from the bath he’d coaxed me into with him hours ago. He hadn’t spoken to me in my mind since we got dried off. But I could feel him watching me, too quiet and too still.

His aura had been withdrawn since the attack—gathered tighter at his core. And that, too, was worrying.

“I know it aches,” I said softly. “But it is fading. And I can’t sense any threat to your health. It will heal eventually.”

He didn’t answer, just patted my knee.

Resting my fingers lightly on his cheek, I pressed my thumb gently beneath his ear and ran it downward, smoothing over the line of the scar again.

He didn’t flinch away, but he also didn’t lean into the touch.

His breathing was shallow. Ah. How had I missed how his heartrate kicked up just a bit every time I touched his throat? My sweet faun was traumatized.

I hated it. I hated what Josh had done. But... I didn’t hate Josh. And I felt vaguely guilty about that. Did Cicely hate him now? Did he fear he’d be attacked again? Did he hate me and the others for not punishing his attacker, but continuing to treat him with careful kindness?

I could feel him watching me, probably wondering what I was thinking.

But he knew not to press too much when my heart tangled itself up like this.

He offered me quiet, steady presence instead.

I couldn’t imagine life without that solid peace.

And maybe silent support was what he needed right now, too.

And yet... I wanted him to push. To speak to me using his mind speak, where there were more than just words, where we could feel a sense of each other’s emotions and intentions. I didn’t just want to guess. I wanted to know that he was okay. That we were okay.

“You should rest,” I said softly, my hand still cupping his jaw.

He tilted his head and my fingers trailed downward, over his neck again, coming to rest over his collar bone.

“No,” he said into my mind. His hand covered mine, drew it down over the warm, lean muscles of his chest, to rest over his heart.

Warmth pooled between us, my aura twining playfully with his, the way they always did when he was in a lust mood.

“Your body needs to replenish,” I reminded him. “And you’ve hardly slept.”

Neither have you, sweet mate.

I tried not to smile, not to beam happily in the face of what had happened. But I was just so happy to hear him, to feel him in my mind. And... I didn’t sense any anger behind his words. A bit of wistful sadness, maybe. But he was entitled to feel a bit down after being attacked and almost dying.

Fabric rustled as Cicely reached for the blanket beside him. His fingers brushed mine, soft, lingering. My chest felt tight and fluttery all at once, relief mixing with my lingering worry. “I was so scared for you,” I whispered.

His fingers trailed over my cheek. I was scared me too, believe me. But I’m still here.

I blinked hard. Nodded. “You don’t hate me?”

He didn’t ask what I was talking about. This was Cicely. He knew me better than I knew myself sometimes. Of course not, my witch. I wouldn’t love you half as much if your heart was so fickle as to withhold your affection from a loved one for something that was not their fault.

He tugged me closer, and I snuggled in along his side on the chaise, my head resting on his chest. You remember the first week you brought me to The Fox?

I did. I remembered how he had helped me escape the syndicate fae, then insisted on staying by my side.

I remembered the way he’d spent so much time hiding in the basement library or the courtyard, because the wards around The Fox were constantly reacting to his foreign presence and trying to urge him to leave.

I remembered his quiet footsteps, his unassuming presence.

The way he’d pledged himself to me and stayed unflinching at my side through every slight and hardship until he was accepted as part of the rebel court.

I had been pretty lost myself at the time, still figuring out my place in this brave new world. And he knew that. He had made no demands. Voiced no complaints. Just offered quiet solidarity. Safe space. For both of us.

“I remember,” I said aloud.

He shifted closer. I loved you immediately.

I liked that you saw me for who I was. And that you never asked anything of me that I didn’t already want to give you.

And I loved how you were strong enough to take me in and care for me, to stand up for me, while still honoring your connections with the others.

I admired how strong you were to be able to walk that line. This is the same.

My magic flowed between us, warm and honey-gold. It flowed through him, and I felt it lingering at the curve of his neck, glowing brighter at the place where I’d so recently focused all my magic. I had nearly lost him.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I know it must bother you after how loyal you’ve been to me.

But... I can’t choose sides. I’m worried about you, Cicely.

I’m heartbroken that you were hurt. That I almost lost you.

And yet... I’m terrified for Josh. I know it nearly destroyed him to be used that way. To hurt you.”

He touched my cheek—slow, deliberate—and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I understand. And I’m still here. Still yours. If you want me.

I frowned at him. “Why on earth wouldn’t I want you?”

There was the sadness I had sensed in him before.

Tinged with something else. Wistfulness, regret?

I’m sorry I’m not as strong as the others, he said, his warm voice in my mind so quiet it was like he whispered mentally.

As if he knew his words were absurd. I’m not as fast, or hardy, or as good in a fight.

I reached for his hands, fumbling until I was able to give them both a squeeze. “What are you talking about? First of all, you are strong. But more importantly... it’s not as if I compare the people I love against one another every day to determine who would do best in a fight!”

He made a rough wheezing-cough sound that I knew just laughter escaping his damaged throat. I know it’s a silly concern. But I’m not exactly unaware that as a beta and a lesser fae I’m... soft. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Another of those soft, raspy laughs.

I rolled my eyes at him in a visual display of how stupid he was being. It didn’t warrant words.

He squeezed my hands again and pressed his forehead to mine, his soft curls brushing my skin, and the faintest hint of his little nubbly horns palpable through his glamour.

But even though I know it’s silly, I can’t help but beat myself up over the fact that any of the others would have been able to fend off Josh’s attack.

He—or Acacia—went for the weakest person in the room.

I scoffed at him. “You’re right. She went for me , if you’ll recall. You just put yourself in the way.”

I felt him shrug. Didn’t I already say it doesn’t make sense? He sighed.

I reached for him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

The moment felt weighted. “I will always want you,” I said, a smile and tears warring inside me for dominance.

“No matter if you’re a superpower, or a weak, wizened little old man.

Your physical strength or magical ability isn’t why I love you. You are so much more than that.”

He touched my face again, fingers caressing the outlines of my features as if he was memorizing them. And that is why I love you. You see so much more in people than they ever see themselves. It’s why this whole court is hopelessly in love with you.

Then he kissed me, and I forgot what we were even talking about in the first place. The caress of his lips against mine was careful. Measured. Familiar, but questioning, asking whether we were okay.

I’m not angry with you. Or with the others.

Even Josh. If anything I feel sorry for him.

You’re right. For a beta to hurt someone like that—and someone who calls him a friend.

It will be much harder on him than me, I think.

His mental tone held a wry note. Though.

.. the sight and smell of blood might make me a tad squeamish for a while.

I shook my head. “I’m glad you’re not angry. But I refuse to let you think of yourself as weak because of all of this.”

Distract me? he said, and the feeling that came with the words was more like his usual puckish self.

His next kiss was as warm and effervescent as ever, even if it was tinged with the realization that we had almost never kissed again.

The way he touched me felt like coming home.

His hands at my cheek, stroking over my hip, reminded me that all my worries lately were over other people’s wars—other people’s feelings and concerns.

Between us there was just this—ease, trust, safety.

I could fall into it, right now, and leave the rest of the world behind for a while.

I think we both needed that.

His lips trailed along my jaw, and I followed his pace, one hand sliding beneath his shirt, palm pressed to his sternum. His heartbeat thrummed steadily beneath my fingers. Warm. Strong. Alive.

We rolled on the big chaise in a tangle of limbs and whispered breath. His aura met mine like the sun rising in the morning—soft and diffuse, warming into something brighter than it had been .

He peeled us out of our clothes in between soft caresses and linger kisses.

I trailed my lips over his throat, pausing to kiss his bruise and whisper healing into it again.

He guided my hand across his ribs, down his flat stomach.

He was a sensory experience—smooth, warm skin, taught abs, rough happy trail, and at last the thick, heavy weight of his cock.

With everything that had been going on around here, it felt like it had been forever since we were together, even though it hadn’t been long at all, only a few days. The rising need inside me surprised me with its sudden fierceness. I wanted to taste him. To feel him under my skin.

The tenderness slowly morphed into something more desperate and primal.

He dove between my thighs, devouring me like he was starving.

I gasped and arched into the sensations, my fingers clutching his silky curls, holding him close as I rode the waves of pleasure he created.

Stars burst behind my eyelids as my entire body went rigid, orgasm crashing over me like a tsunami.

He kissed the inside of my thighs, murmured endearments through our mental link as he waited for me to come down just enough to stop clutching.

Then he was there, pressing me into the plush velvet cushions of the chaise as he surged forward, slowly, relentlessly stretching me with his thick cock, filling me the way I craved.

His claiming was a promise—that he was here, that he’d never try to leave me again.

I wrapped my arms and legs around him, urging him deeper, wanting to keep him with me always.

When he shuddered in my arms, his perfect body stilling, I felt him pulsing inside me, spilling his release.

I came again, my entire body clutching at him desperately, wanting the moment to last forever.

He held me as I clutched him tight—inside and out—the waves of pleasure fading, but my witch anatomy refusing to let him go. His heart beat heavy against my chest as he pressed soft kisses to my face and stroked my hair. Quiet. Steady. Sacred.

How could I have ever doubted the strength of what we had between us? It would withstand anything. My sweet, devoted beta mate.

Afterward, we lay wrapped in the blanket, his head tucked beneath my chin as he pressed a lingering kiss to my chest, fingers laced with mine. Still here. Still yours,” he whispered in my mind.

I kissed his forehead and whispered back, “And I’m yours. Always. Nothing and no one will ever come between us.”

And for the first time since Cicely was attacked, we both slept like the dead.