Page 30 of The Unbound Witch

“We can’t.” Water dripped down his face as he leaned his forehead on mine, thumbs caressing my jaw. “As tempting as it is, we can’t. Let me wash you, and then we need to wrap those wounds. But I promise I will make up for every lost kiss, every single night without my arms wrapped around you.”

I nodded, reluctantly. We were going to travel, and I could not sustain another day like the one before, walking for hours, each step a stabbing pain up my legs, my brain fogging over, the ache within my head. I’m not sure which of those we could help, but any would be a reprieve.

“Okay.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Was that a concession without a fight, Miss Moonstone?”

“Don’t get used to it, shifter.”

Bastian was gentle, his fingers tangling into my hair as he poured in Eden’s oils, massaging at a leisurely pace. His hands lingering in places that made me squirm as he lathered soap all over my body. By the time the Dark King was done with his ministrations, I felt like a whole new person, inside and out.

He was here, and that was enough for now. A day ago I’d have given anything to bring him back. My pride included.

The scowl on Kirsi’s face as we re-entered the cottage melted to shock the second the door clicked shut. Deciding not to dress so we could wrap the wounds, Bastian held me half-covered by my borrowed dress in his arms.

“You okay?” she asked, as if she had all the power in the world to kill the man.

“I’m okay,” I answered. “I need some bandages and a few other things.”

“I’ve gathered what I have,” Eden said, stepping into the room.

Moving away from them both and into the bedroom, Bastian laid me on the bed. Using the items from the moss witch, he carefully treated the gashes and wrapped them in cloth. But the moment he was done, he crawled over me, closing his mouth over mine as I moaned, now entirely naked.

“I am not broken,” I muttered. “Please touch me.”

“Touch you where?” he growled into my ear.

Before I could answer, he pressed a thumb over the spot between my legs that belonged solely to him.

“Here?” he whispered. I could only manage a small whimper as he slipped two fingers inside of me. “Or here.”

He stroked me relentlessly, holding my gaze. Barely restrained, Bastian leaned over, closing his teeth over the curve of my neck. I groaned, lifting from the bed as those fingers moved with fevered intention. The desire he’d drawn only increased as he pressed his lips to mine again, our tongues dancing as he tested my weakened body. Breasts aching to be touched, body swollen with need, he stroked me until I arched off the bed, discontent with fingers when it could have been so much more.

But then he stopped. Far, far too soon.

“No. Bastian, please.”

“I will finish this,” he growled into my ear. “When you do not need your strength.”

“I will crawl to that damn ship.”

He chuckled before lifting himself from the bed. “Later, Miss Moonstone.”

Stepping from the room, he left me to dress, though I did not miss the snort from Kirsi. She’d known, of course. I didn’t feel ashamed as I stepped out of that bedroom refreshed and more alive than I had been in days.

“I have a theory,” Eden said, holding the Moss Coven Grimoire. “What if Raven’s afflictions have something to do with the spell she cast? What if she was not powerful enough to cast death? You didn’t die, so it must not have worked.”

Bastian scratched the back of his head. “Had I not stopped it in the middle, deadening the spell by sending us all here to the land with no magic, I would have died. I tasted death. Seconds more and everything would have been different.”

“It’s probably just a mixture of exhaustion and dealing with the trauma of the last day at home.” I sighed.

“Here.” Eden held the book out to me. “You wanted to see this earlier. Help yourself. Just be gentle with the pages.”

“You literally had it shoved at the bottom of a book stack three seconds ago,” Kirsi said.

“All the same, please be careful.”

I swallowed, taking the book from her hands. It was the same size as the Moon Coven Grimoire I remembered. Small enough to blend in with other books, but substantial enough to feel important. The ancient leather was cracked and peeling in places, the emerald stone on the cover dull compared to the others I’d seen. As if this book had aged and the others had magic that preserved them from doing so.