Page 24 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

SOUNDTRACK: Only the Beginning by UNSECRET

~ JANN ~

God, I was a coward. A ball-less wonder of divine proportions. She’d challenged me, looked me in the eye and asked me the hard question. And I’d been so close. Teetering on the edge of that cliff.

You’re my mate.

The words had crawled up my throat, begging for release, and at the last possible moment, I swallowed them back and told her some bullshit about her value as a soldier and Advisor.

I was so ashamed of myself I struggled to meet her eyes for the rest of the evening.

Now, she lay here in my bed, rigid with tension and self-loathing because me and my little speech had done nothing to help, and she blamed herself? Called herself a burden?

She thought I hated having her here?

God, nothing was further from the truth. But she’d given me my open door for the truth, and I’d slammed it shut in her face.

Curse me to hell. Who was the one losing their nerve now?

“No, Diadre… You’re wrong,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.

“Wrong about what?”

I rolled onto my side and leaned up on my elbow, looking down at her in the dark. She had the furs pulled up to her chin.

“I don’t hate having you here,” I admitted, and ran a hand through my hair when she frowned. “I don’t hate it at all.”

Her eyes looked black in the dark, but there were tiny pinpoints of light. She turned her head to look at me. I didn’t know how much she could see in the dark, but I made myself hold her gaze.

My words still hung in the air when our eyes locked and my breath stopped. Something in my chest throbbed. Couldn’t she feel that? Wasn’t she affected?

She gave no indication if she did.

And then, as I swallowed and gathered my tattered courage, those beautiful eyes of hers shone with unshed tears and my heart dropped.

“I’m afraid all the time, Jann,” she whispered.

God, I wanted to punch myself in the face for being harsh on her. “What do you need?” I asked as gently as I could. “What can I do?”

She gave a broken, wet little laugh and shook her head. “I need warmth and… and strength nearby so I can sleep.”

Oh God. “I’m warm. And strong,” I said my voice dropping because of the images conjured in my mind.

“I know,” she whispered, then covered her face with her hands. “But I feel… I feel like a child asking for it.”

“Then do not ask,” I said simply and did what I’d been wanting to do for days.

I slipped an arm under her neck, then laid back down and pulled her against me, manifesting my wings under her so that the one on that side curled around to cradle her and held her to me, a shield from eyes, from light, from… the world.

She still had her hands on her face, but when I rolled her towards me, she let herself be moved. She was stiff, and curled her knees up towards her chest. A little ball of fear and angst. But within the cocoon of my wing I let a hand play up and down her back, and she slowly relaxed.

I sighed, relieved to finally be touching her. And slowly her body loosened. She let her head rest against my shoulder, and one small hand unfurled, then rested on my chest like a small, frightened animal tentatively finding peace.

I rested my other hand over hers on my chest, feeling that sizzle between us where she touched me, and finally I could breathe.

There were no words. No explanations. No negotiation. I had told her I didn’t resent her presence, and she’d admitted she needed mine.

I relaxed, staring at the ceiling of tent, praying she could finally sleep.

And slowly, slowly, she drifted off.

I held her, and she found the warmth and safety she needed. She slept. It struck me that this was her trust. In this day, in this place, for her to lay alongside me and let herself rest, was the ultimate trust.

It was the most precious, lovely sensation I’d ever had—and she wasn’t even naked.

When her breathing had slowed and evened, and the tension was gone from her, I turned my head, my nose brushing her hair. I inhaled deeply, and that place in my chest that crackled when she touched me flared again.

Something deep within me pressed for release—the urge to own, to possess, to claim. And though it was feral, and I gritted my teeth to fight it back, there was a thread within it. Something that fed my soul—a need only she could fulfill. Not just to have her body, I realized. But to have her.

I yearned to see her smile. To watch her eyes land on me and light from within.

I ached to hear her laugh.

And to watch her skin heat, and her blood turn to fire. Not with fear, but with desire.

I found myself equally disgusted that I could even think of taking her when she was so recently assaulted, yet breathless with the anticipated joy of having her.

But I would not touch my mate until she wanted me. The battle was not for the choice, but merely to calm my flesh.

She was my One. My Pair. My mate. She was precious. And she would be protected to the last drop of blood in my veins—

I caught myself, observed my own thoughts, and my breath stopped.

Staring into the dark, but seeing nothing but the black of my own wing, those words rolled around in my head, butting up against the glimpses I’d seen of Melek with Yilan—the way they orbited each other. The fearless, joyful draw.

Mate.

The word demanded attention. Refused to be denied. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and what it actually meant.

Mate. Diadre is my mate.

The reality landed in my chest, punching through my ribs to turn me inside out.

I was a fool. An utter fool.

Diadre was my mate. My soul. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t resist a soulbond.

Holy shit.

I’d seen it in her, felt it in myself, and somehow convinced myself it was a choice. That I had some say in this. There was no choice. Why would I choose anything but her?

Joy, fear, and thrill coiled in my chest. My pulse sped.

Should I tell her so she understood? So she could breathe?

So she’d know that I would literally die to keep her safe?

But as my heart thudded and my soul drove me forward, as I considered nudging her awake, holding her, whispering to her, making her see it…

I realized that she’d been hurt. If she became aware of the bond and didn’t want it, it would torment her.

But then, my heart argued, it was possible completing the bond would help her. I’d heard that as the bond completed, hearts and even bodies could be healed…

I knew she’d felt those crackles when she touched me. I knew she’d sensed me, whether she’d understood what she felt or not. Would she want it? And what torture awaited us both if she didn’t? But then the thought echoed…

If I don’t resist, this is going to kill both of us.

My heart sank, clawing at my soul as it shrieked, dragged down and away.

Diadre stirred, and I realized I was holding her too tightly. I had to force myself to loosen my grip.

She rolled her head and her eyes fluttered. “What’s wrong?” she breathed.

Her sweet, quiet voice speared through me and I closed my eyes against the wash of need.

“Nothing, beautiful. Go back to sleep.” The words just came.

I didn’t think them. But what would she hear?

My eyes went wide, but I breathed again a moment later when it was obvious she hadn’t woken properly because, with a heavy sigh, she threw that arm across my chest and snuggled up, resting her head on my chest so her breath fluttered across my collarbones.

“Thank you,” she breathed, then her body went slack again and I was left there, head pounding, body aching, heart shivering.

Mate.

Mine.

But for how long?

Swallowing my fear, I curled my other arm around her within the circle of my wings and pulled her close, tucking her head under my chin and curling myself around her so that nothing could reach us. Nothing could touch her, but me.

And then I prayed like I’d never prayed before.