Page 63 of Lord of the Lone Wolf (Bonded Hearts #3)

Kitsuki

T he wind carried them across the cerulean expanse of the sky, sunlight glinting off Kitsuki’s iridescent scales. Six hours had passed since dawn broke over the horizon as they started their journey to Tiora.

Maseo shifted his weight as he sought relief from the constant ache gnawing at his wounds, his grip on Kitsuki’s scales loosening, sending alarm through the dragon’s consciousness. The poultice the healer had applied at first light must have been losing its numbing properties .

Kitsuki angled his massive body downward, aiming for a secluded clearing nestled between a forest and a small stream.

He felt Maseo’s heartbeat quicken with the unexpected descent as he landed, his powerful wings creating currents that bent the tall grasses in waves.

Kitsuki crouched low, flattening his body against the earth to allow Maseo an easier dismount.

“Is everything okay?” Maseo asked, sliding off Kitsuki’s back. His voice carried the tight control of someone masking pain, but beneath it lay a weariness that hadn’t been there at dawn.

Kitsuki waited until Maseo had moved a safe distance away before transforming.

The magic of his shift rippled through the air, scales dissolving into skin, wings receding into his back as his person form took shape in his royal attire.

“It is time to change your dressings.” He gestured toward a patch of grass under a tree near the stream as he summoned the supplies needed to treat Maseo’s injuries. “Please sit.”

“I can take care of it myself,” Maseo protested.

A hint of amusement softened Kitsuki’s features. “While I admire your confidence in your flexibility, I suspect reaching the wound between your shoulder blades might prove challenging even for a warrior of your considerable skills.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Maseo’s mouth. “Fair point. But you’re a king. You shouldn’t have to tend to me.”

“You are my ward. Your well-being is my responsibility.”

With a gesture, Kitsuki’s magic enveloped Maseo’s tunic, which vanished into silver smoke, revealing the bandaged wounds beneath. His dragon stirred at the sight of Maseo’s bare torso.

Kitsuki settled behind Maseo. The bandage covering the slash across his shoulder blade had seeped with a dark fluid that carried an acrid scent. Working with methodical precision, Kitsuki unwound the bandage.

He opened the jar containing the emerald poultice, its aroma filling the air with sharp wintergreen, soothing lavender, and healing herbs. The salve glistened on his fingers as he gathered a generous portion. “This may cause discomfort.”

Maseo’s muscles tensed beneath Kitsuki’s fingertips at the first contact as a sharp hiss escaped him.

The corruption spreads faster than we can counter it , his dragon observed with growing alarm. We cannot lose him.

Kitsuki spread the poultice with reverent attention across Maseo’s skin.

Each stroke became a silent promise of protection, belonging, and a future where such wounds would never again mar his body.

His touch lingered at the boundary between injured and healthy flesh, making small, soothing circles that transcended mere medical necessity.

The ritual transformed into something sacred between them. Kitsuki found himself entranced as chills followed the path of his fingers when they strayed beyond the wound to the sensitive skin along Maseo’s spine.

His heartbeat quickened, the rhythm clear to Kitsuki’s enhanced senses. The sweet scent of his embarrassment intensified. “This feels beneath your dignity as king.”

Kitsuki paused. “You were injured because I failed to protect you. At least I can care for you now.”

The admission settled in the sudden stillness between them.

Kitsuki resumed his ministrations, spreading the poultice with careful attention to every inflamed edge of the wound before focusing on wrapping fresh bandages around Maseo’s torso.

His fingers worked with practiced efficiency, securing the dressing with enough pressure to hold without constricting. “I will do the one on your ribs next.”

He removed the dressing with careful hands, revealing the angry gash beneath. The corruption there was more advanced, the wound weeping a greenish fluid. Dark veins spread outward like a web of death, pulsing with each beat of Maseo’s heart.

“How bad is it?” Maseo asked, unable to see his injuries.

Kitsuki hesitated, unwilling to lie but reluctant to voice the full truth. “It appears the poultice is helping slow the progression somewhat, but it looks painful.”

He prepared another application, his dragon rumbling with satisfaction at being allowed to tend to their chosen one.

The possessive thought no longer startled Kitsuki as it once had.

Since witnessing Maseo almost sacrifice himself to end Nasume’s reign of terror, Kitsuki had accepted his dragon was right.

Maseo belonged with them alongside Auslin.

He responds to our touch , his dragon insisted. He knows our strength is his sanctuary .

Kitsuki gathered more of the healing salve onto his fingers, applying it to Maseo’s injury. “Does this hurt?”

“It burns, but in a good way, like the medicine is fighting back against whatever poison is in there.” Maseo hesitated before adding, “I’m not used to having someone take care of me.”

The admission transformed the space between them, turning medical necessity into something far more intimate.

As Kitsuki’s fingers continued their careful work, tracing the edges of the wound with healing salve, Maseo’s breath hitched.

An involuntary sound escaped his throat, not of pain but of pleasure.

The half-shifter tensed in mortification.

Kitsuki’s dragon thrashed within him. He wants our touch despite the pain. Craves it even as the poison consumes him. His body knows who he belongs to.

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, remembering his commitment to getting Maseo to Auslin in time. Nothing would happen until the three of them reunited in Tiora.

Instead, Kitsuki channeled his fierce longing into his healing touch, transforming each caress into an unspoken promise of what might someday be. Each shiver was a victory against the poison; each exhale was a sign that Maseo still fought against the corruption spreading through his body.

When Kitsuki’s thumb grazed an uninjured patch of skin along Maseo’s ribs, the half-shifter arched into the touch, a low moan slipping past his defenses before he could suppress it. The sound made his dragon respond with fierce approval.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m…” Maseo broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

Kitsuki paused, lifting his gaze to meet Maseo’s. “There is nothing to apologize for.”

“This is inappropriate. You’re trying to help me, and I’m?—”

“Responding to care you have never known,” Kitsuki finished for him. “There is no shame in that.”

Maseo’s good eye widened, surprise overriding his embarrassment. “You’re not offended?”

“Not at all.” Kitsuki resumed his application of the healing salve. “Your body recognizes what your mind perhaps does not yet understand. That is all.”

The cryptic statement hung between them as Kitsuki continued his work.

He brushed against uninjured skin in a touch that lingered a moment too long to be clinical.

Another moan escaped Maseo when Kitsuki’s fingers trailed along his side to secure the bandage, the sound halfway between pleasure and pain.

“Only your eye remains.” Kitsuki settled before him, their knees touching on the sun-warmed grass as he reached for the dressing covering the left side of Maseo’s face.

Maseo winced as it pulled away, revealing the devastating wound.

Kitsuki’s heart constricted at the sight, his dragon roaring with rage at the damage.

“We will reach Tiora in time for Auslin to help,” Kitsuki said with fierce determination, dipping his fingers into the poultice once more.

“His Divine heritage carries healing gifts that should hopefully be able to overcome the necromantic poison.”

“Even if he can’t, it was worth it.”

Maseo’s simple statement, offered without self-pity or regret, touched Kitsuki.

It was the courage that had first drawn his dragon’s attention, the quiet strength that had proven itself worthy of a king’s regard.

He dipped his fingers into the poultice, then hesitated, his hand hovering near Maseo’s face. “May I?”

Maseo nodded, a small smile touching his lips. “I trust you.”

Three simple words, yet they carried the weight of mountains. After a lifetime of betrayal and isolation, Maseo’s trust was a gift beyond measure. Kitsuki accepted it with the reverence it deserved, applying the healing salve with gentle touches.

Maseo’s good eye fluttered closed at the contact, his breath catching in his throat. The scent of his arousal intensified, mingling with the sharper notes of shame and embarrassment. But there was also a yearning so profound it seemed to emanate from his very soul.

Kitsuki’s dragon pushed forward with sudden urgency. Kiss him now. He needs our comfort.

The impulse almost overwhelmed Kitsuki. With Maseo’s face cradled in his hands, it would be so easy to close the distance between them, to taste what his dragon insisted was already theirs.

Kitsuki forced his focus back to the salve, though he felt the tremor in his own hands betraying his want that warred with duty.

“This is what makes you such a wonderful king,” Maseo said.

Kitsuki paused. “What do you mean?”

“The citizens of Valzerna are fortunate to have a monarch who cares so much,” Maseo continued, his remaining eye lifting to meet Kitsuki’s. “You’re so good at taking care of people.”

“I regret that war was necessary,” Kitsuki admitted, resuming his careful treatment. “So many lives were lost to Nasume’s senseless violence.”

“That’s his fault, not yours,” Maseo replied with quiet conviction. “You tried to prevent this conflict at every turn. When that failed, you led your people with honor and protected them as best you could.”

The absolution in Maseo’s words made Kitsuki’s dragon stir with satisfaction, no longer restless with possessive urgency but content in the moment. He is ours to protect. Ours to cherish. We will not let Nasume steal him from us.

Kitsuki acknowledged the truth of his dragon’s certainty while he continued.

Since holding Maseo in his arms after the battle and feeling the rightness of that connection, he had stopped fighting against what his dragon had always known.

Maseo was theirs, and completing the trinity bond with Auslin would make them whole.

“There,” he said, securing a fresh bandage over the injury.

Maseo reached up, his fingers brushing against Kitsuki’s as he touched the edge of the dressing. “Thank you.”

Kitsuki didn’t move away. Instead, he rested his hand on Maseo’s shoulder. “You fought bravely. Valzerna owes you a debt that cannot be repaid.”

Maseo shook his head. “I did what anybody would have done.”

“No, what you did was extraordinary. Few would have had the courage to face Nasume as you did.”

Maseo shifted, his gaze dropping as the truth of his body’s response became undeniable. The scent of his humiliation soured the air, a bitter tang of shame from a man who had only ever known touch as a weapon.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening. I’ve never—this isn’t—“ He struggled to find the words to apologize. “You’re mated to Auslin. I would never disrespect that. But I can’t seem to control my reactions when you?—“

“Be at ease, Maseo. You have done nothing wrong. “

“But—”

Kitsuki interrupted him. “Your reaction to my care is not offensive to me. It honors me to be the one permitted to ease your pain. Caring for you gives me a sense of purpose I never knew I lacked.”

Maseo’s breath caught, and the tension in his shoulders eased as the bitter scent of his shame faded. “I’ve never had anyone take care of me since my mother passed away. I almost forgot what it felt like to be touched without pain as the intent.”

The simple statement, offered with such vulnerability, struck Kitsuki deep in his heart. His dragon roared with protective fury at the thought of all Maseo had endured, at a life that had taught him to expect cruelty rather than kindness.

His thumb traced the line of Maseo’s jaw, a touch that was both comfort and promise. “When we return to Valzerna, there are matters we must discuss.”

Maseo looked confused. “About what?”

“The future.”

Tell him his place is with us. With Auslin , his dragon added.

“I’d be honored to serve Valzerna in any capacity you deem appropriate,” Maseo said, the formality of his words at odds with the vulnerability in his expression.

Kitsuki shook his head. “It is not about service. It is about belonging.”

“I’d like to belong.” Maseo’s shy expression tugged at Kitsuki’s heart.

A rare smile softened the dragon king’s features. “Then we agree.” He didn’t resist the impulse to reach out to brush a strand of hair from Maseo’s forehead. The touch lingered, trailing down to trace the uninjured side of his face with tender appreciation.

Maseo leaned into the contact, his eye fluttering closed as he savored the touch.

For a heartbeat, Kitsuki wavered on the edge of surrender.

His hand slid to the nape of Maseo’s neck, fingers threading through his soft hair, drawing him closer.

But the necromantic poison pulsing beneath Maseo’s skin was a constant reminder of what was at stake.

With a concentrated effort, Kitsuki pulled back, his hand dropping to Maseo’s shoulder instead.

Nothing would proceed without Auslin’s presence. The trinity bond required all three of them united in purpose and desire.

“Rest a little longer,” Kitsuki said, reluctant to break the connection between them but knowing he must. “The poultice needs time to take full effect, and you need to conserve your strength for our journey.”

Maseo nodded, making no attempt to move away.

They sat in quiet contentment while the stream gurgled nearby, and the sun continued its journey across the sky.

But Kitsuki’s dragon remained on edge, counting each heartbeat, measuring each breath, calculating how much time they had left before the necromancy claimed what was theirs.

With the weight of kingship temporarily set aside, Kitsuki allowed himself to embrace what his dragon had known all along. Maseo was theirs to protect. And when they returned to Tiora, to Auslin, they would claim their trinity bond.