Page 66 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

SOUNDTRACK: Hold On by Hidden Citizens and Ryan Innes

This chapter is dedicated to Tessa, for all your great ideas that got us here.

~ JANN ~

“…None of this matters if we get killed in the traverse of the Peaks. No matter what, Jann. We need to stay here and rest until you’re stronger. You know that.”

“I only need a day, or two at most—we heal fast.”

“We’ll see,” she answered skeptically. I wanted to bristle at her refusal to trust my word, but I was still shaking from thinking she’d been taken and knew I was overreacting.

Dawn light rose as I grew thoughtful.

I’d tried arguing her out of this plan for an hour while she skinned the animal she’d caught on her journey and roasted it over the fire, then fed us both.

But I was quiet as we ate then she cleaned up, because as much as I abhorred the idea of her infiltrating the Centaurs alone, the truth was, it was why she was here. And it was what she’d been made to do.

But, the panic that lit in my chest when I thought of sitting here, injured and impotent while she walked among them though…

Was that the problem? It wasn’t that I didn’t want her to do her work. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her. It was that we all knew, these things rarely went to plan. And if she was caught among them, alone because I sat here like a lump on a log…

My blood ran cold.

“Dee?” I croaked.

“Mmmm?” she asked from where she crouched over the flames, poking at them with a long, green branch to spread the coals more evenly.

“Come here,” I said, trying to keep the fear from my voice.

She looked a question at me over her shoulder, but she must have felt my unease in the bond, because she didn’t speak, but got to her feet and walked to me immediately, standing between my knees where I sat on the hammock.

The moment she reached me, I slid hands to her hips and pulled her right up against me and held her there.

She tipped her head and looked at me with compassion. “I know you’re used to being the strong one and doing the heavy lifting, but I promise you, this is what God made me to do. They won’t even know I’m there—”

“I know,” I said reluctantly.

Her brows rose slightly. “Then what—”

“I love you,” I said, exhaling deeply.

“I love you too.” Her smile was precious and sweet.

“And… I need you,” I rasped, pulling her up into the hammock as I turned my hips and lay back down—relieved to note my back was noticeably more comfortable after her ministrations.

I only winced once in lifting her up, and it was because I had to hold her out, away from my body to lift her high enough that she could straddle me.

“Jann!” she squeaked as I lifted her like a child and settled myself into the hammock.

It swung a great deal as I manhandled her, but the edges curled up around my sides, and when I pulled her down to lay on my chest, her knees bent at my waist, I was happy to simply wrap her in my arms and let the furs swing lazily while I stroked her hair.

At first she struggled a bit, spluttering.

“You need to warn me if you’re going to throw me around like a sack,” she muttered, but her shoulders slumped and she sighed, releasing tension as she relaxed over me, her head on my shoulder.

I stroked her hair and down her back as the hammock swung us both back and forth, and I felt her fully relax, letting me take her whole weight.

I closed my eyes, buried my nose in her hair, and felt her.

It was like sinking into warm water—surrounded by her touch, her warmth, her scent. Something in the bond fluttered, then expanded and my chest expanded with it.

I knew she felt it too, because she took a deep breath and nuzzled up under my jaw, her hand coming around to cup the side of my neck and hold herself to me.

For a moment I could barely breathe. The simple togetherness of it touched that raw fear within me, simultaneously soothing it and creating an even greater urgency to keep her safe.

After a few minutes of breathless closeness, she sighed and pulled her head up, crossing her hands on my chest and resting her chin on them to stare at me.

Focusing on her eyes made the world behind her swing lazily back and forth. I reached for her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear, trying to find words to describe what I was feeling, but failing miserably.

When she smiled my heart swelled.

Then other parts of me swelled as well, and it occurred to me that it wasn’t words I needed to offer her.

She squirmed on me and her smile broadened, turning wicked.

“What about your back?” she whispered.

“Fuck my back,” I muttered then pulled her up to kiss me as she giggled.

The minutes that followed were sweet and delicious and something I’d never experienced with a woman before as she took such care with me because of her concern for my back. But we wrestled with her clothes, and with the hammock.

She laughed when I swore because I shifted myself in the hammock and almost flipped us. Then I chuckled because she sat up on me to take off her shirt and lost her balance when the hammock moved and fell forward over me, bracing her arms on the tied furs above my head.

But of course, that brought her breasts right in line with my face and I couldn’t resist but to lift my head to suck one of those rosy peaks into my mouth.

Diadre, stretched out above me, sucked in and arched—which only reminded me that I still had to get her leathers off, because I hadn’t exaggerated when I said I needed her.

It took more maneuvering and more laughing, but finally I had her naked and sprawled on top of me, my breath growing harsh in the growing dawn light.

As she sat up on me, I reached back to pull the tie from her braid and loosen her hair, about to tell her how beautiful she was, when she reached back to shake the braid out and the picture she painted stole my breath.

Her skin, paler than mine, glowing in the low, peach light of morning, her arms reaching up, elbows to the sky as she shook her hair out, arching her back and her hair tumbling around her shoulders, those loose waves from the braid curling around her breasts.

She was stunning, and when her hair was shaken out, she dropped both hands to my chest, bracing herself there, her upper arms pressing her breasts together and plumping them as she grinned down at me.

“You be careful, old man—let me do the work,” she said breathlessly, winking.

I grunted, then when she sat up again, grabbed her hips and pulled her forward and down on me—which made her overbalance again and laugh as she fell forward. Which, in turn, caused the hammock to swing.

“You are stunning, Dee,” I croaked, flexing my hips because she was rubbing herself against me and it felt divine, but not nearly enough.

“I like the way you look, too,” she said breathlessly, reaching forward to trace the line of my pec, then along the muscles at my ribs. Those little touches should have been nothing. But the light trail of her fingertips lit tingling in my skin and made my blood heat so my breath shuddered.

Suddenly, her sweet rubbing and touching wasn’t enough. I had to have her.

And she felt it too, bracing her hands on me and arching her back, sliding herself up and down, teasing me, her head sinking back so her throat was bared—and that sight of her touched something so deep inside me, the bond sizzled.

It was with trembling hands I reached for her, urging her to relax as I lifted her and positioned her over me, then let her slide down onto me with such a wash of ecstatic bliss that a strangled snarl broke in my throat as I took her—and she responded with a throaty cry that made the fire in my blood flare higher.

Then, mouth open and breath harsh, she shifted her weight and found her comfort over me before she began to move, hips rolling, belly undulating, and the hammock continued to swing with us so the very world seemed to tilt.

The morning sun broke over the mountains behind me and shafts of light broke between the trees, gilding her skin until it seemed the world was brighter because of her.

The bond thrummed and sang, driving me closer—and yet, I wanted to savor the moment, not to rush towards the end, because watching her like this…

I was speechless.

Very quickly, her eyes fluttered closed. She smiled and bit her lower lip, letting her head sink back and baring her throat again, her hair falling to tickle my thighs, a soft rush over my skin that made me goosebump and want to roar.

I held her at the hips, moving with her, keeping the pace slow and deep in time with the movement of the hammock, but I was beginning to sweat and shake.

As her breath caught and her nipples tightened, I reached for her, painting her sides, her breasts, her collarbones with my fingers, trailing fingers under her jaw and down her throat, touching her as I’d never touched another—like the precious, fragile treasure she was, and aching within because she was only more beautiful as she arched into my touch.

And with every roll of our hips, and every release of her breath, my body drove me closer. Ached for more. And so did she.

Then, when she tightened on me, when her head dropped forward and her hair tumbled over her breasts, when I had both hands on her, soft cries tearing from my throat because I couldn’t get enough, when she grasped my wrists and bowed her back, holding my touch to her body and let her head roll back again, sighing my name, I thought if I died, my life would be complete.

She was a vision—skin golden in the morning sun, her hair tangled and messy, her eyes closed and lashes fluttering, lips soft and full and her body embracing me…

a surge of need tore through my belly like a wildfire combusting and I snarled, trying to fight back the urgency—but the fire lit in the bond as well and Diadre felt it too.

Her hips bucked and her lips formed my name, though she made no sound because her breath had stopped. Then the leash I’d held on myself snapped.