Page 27 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

T he castle was still and quiet around me as I walked down the hall, reminding me of the few nights I had snuck out into the city when I first arrived in Zehvi. That felt like it was a lifetime ago. My guards were a few paces behind me, like always, and Azrun walked quietly at my side.

Saying goodbye to my sister had been incredibly difficult, especially after having so little time with her. I would see her in a few weeks when she came for the Halmarish wedding ceremony, but I would miss her fiercely until then. Malik had left us to talk after the meeting ended, but Azrun had stayed, unapologetically lounging on the floor, seemingly to enjoy a nap until we parted ways.

Now I stared down at him as we reached the door to my rooms. “I suppose you’re coming inside?” I asked drawly.

The dragon just stared at me, and my lips twitched as I shook my head and opened the door. I bid the guards goodnight before closing it again. Azrun was already gliding through the antechamber and into the bedroom.

Usually, Malik came to bed after me and if I wasn’t asleep by then, I could roll over and pretend I was. But tonight, when I strode into our room, he was the one already in bed. I froze when I saw him sitting there, shirtless, with all that bronze skin and those tattooed muscles on display.

His golden-brown eyes met mine, and I paused, trying to pretend I was unaffected by the sight of him. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you—ah—here,” I said falteringly. I immediately wanted to take the words back.

Azrun didn’t share my problem. He walked right past me over to Malik’s side of the bed and proceeded to collapse onto his makeshift horde of blankets there.

One of Malik’s dark brows rose. “You weren’t expecting to find me here . . . in our bedroom?” he asked. I could have sworn he was fighting a smile.

My cheeks burned. “You know what I mean. Must you torment me?”

He grinned. “Siren, tormenting you is one of my favorite pastimes.”

His words had me blushing even harder and glancing around. “Where are my maids?” I asked. “I need to change.”

“I told them to seek their beds,” he answered casually. “I can help you with whatever you need.”

I shot him an annoyed look. “That won’t be necessary,” I said as I stepped around the tall changing screen that had appeared in our chamber not long after he had moved me in here. A kind gesture that I was ignoring at present.

“Suit yourself.”

It only took a few minutes of struggling for me to realize that I would indeed need his help if I wished to get out of this dress without utterly destroying it. Huffing in resignation, I came out from behind the screen and said petulantly, “If you can help me with these buttons at the back, I can manage the rest.”

Thankfully, he didn’t comment. Without a word, he closed the book in his lap I hadn’t noticed until now and rose from the bed. I tried valiantly not to notice the lithe movements of his body as he walked, or the way the two deep lines of muscle over each hip disappeared beneath the linen sleep pants he favored.

I turned my back to him, pulling my hair aside. I wore a shift underneath the dress, so my back was in no risk of exposure. Not that he hadn’t already seen it. I pushed the thought aside as, in moments, his fingers had deftly unhooked the buttons and the dress sagged around my frame.

“Thank you,” I murmured thickly before dashing back around the screen.

Moments later, I emerged in one of my more conservative night dresses to find Malik had returned to bed. I sat at the vanity and began removing my earrings.

The silence was probably only awkward to me, but eventually I turned partially around on the stool, clearing my throat. “Thank you . . . for today.”

He glanced up as I spoke.

“For bringing Helene here and taking me to see her before . . .” I trailed off. “I didn’t know how badly I needed to see a familiar face until I saw her standing there. And not just for that, but for including me in the meeting today. I know you didn’t have to do that.”

His eyes warmed. “You are welcome. And as for the meeting, as I told the others, you will be my wife and my queen, and I don’t want that to be in name only. I value your opinion.”

I felt my lips tip up as I turned and began brushing out the few tangles in my hair. I hadn’t yet fully removed my braids around him. He might see us as basically married, but I didn’t. Not yet anyway. I knew he had noticed, but he hadn’t said anything.

“You’re smiling, siren,” he noted unexpectedly.

I lowered the brush and turned to look at him again. “So?”

“It’s just that you smile so rarely that each one feels like an achievement. So you will allow me to gloat and take note of it when it happens, because I’ve earned it.”

“I smile all the time,” I protested, knowing even as I said it that it was not particularly true.

The quip I expected in response didn’t come. Instead, I was surprised at the intensity with which he stared back as he replied, “I’ve seen you smile plenty, but rarely are they genuine. And when they are, they are shy, fleeting things that come and go so quickly I wonder if they were there at all.” He paused. “When I took you to see that play, that was the first time you truly smiled for me. And since then, I have made it my mission to have you do so as often as possible.”

I swallowed hard, for some reason, almost finding myself near tears. “Why do you care so much if I smile?” I asked softly.

“Because you deserve to smile, siren. You deserve to live a life full of them.”

I opened and shut my mouth several times, not sure how to respond, or how to deal with the flood of conflicting emotions his words and the look in his dark eyes stirred in me.

Standing up, I walked over and climbed into the bed and rolled so my back was to him, pulling the covers over me.

You deserve to live a life full of them. The sting of tears threatened, and I couldn’t allow him to see.

“Good night, Malik.” By some miracle, I kept my voice from shaking.

There was a gentle pause. “Good night, isholet .”

Something woke me in the night, and I rolled over to find Malik sitting at the edge of the bed, his back to me, his head resting in his hands.

A small lamp on his bedside table cast the only light in the dim room as I sat up. “Malik,” I said softly, “what is it?”

He didn’t even lift his head from his hands. “It’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

His tense shoulders and the way he kept rubbing at his eyes indicated it was most definitely not nothing.

I said as much, and he grimaced again.

“It’s my head,” he finally admitted, and his voice was tight with pain. “It happens every so often. Ever since the war ended . . .” He winced and trailed off. His hands raked through his hair. “It feels as if someone is taking a lance to the inside of my skull.”

“Come lie down,” I said, crawling out from under the covers and kneeling on the bed. “My sister deals with such pains from time to time, and I would often help her when they were particularly bad.”

At first, he gave me a skeptical look, but then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth arguing with me. I had him lie down on his back and let him rest his head in my lap. Once he was settled, I fed my fingers through his thick hair, pulling gently at the dark silky strands. A small thrill went through me at being able to touch him like this. “It is not fair for a man to have such beautiful hair,” I murmured after a while, trying to distract myself.

He chuckled, but the sound was strained. “Was that an actual compliment?” He stared up at me.

“A statement,” I corrected sternly, but my tone gave me away and he smiled.

“I’ll take what I can get,” he muttered.

“Hush now,” I said. “No talking. And close your eyes,” I demanded for good measure.

He smirked but then did as I ordered. I began massaging his scalp, then moved down, applying gentle pressure to the back of his neck and then up to his temples.

He sighed. The night was still around us. I didn’t even hear Azrun’s soft breathing, and when I glanced over, his pillows were empty. He must have left some time in the night. Focusing back on my patient, I realized that though he had relaxed a little, his big body was still tense.

An idea formed. Without letting myself consider it too much, I took a deep breath to release some of the tension in my own body, then I began to sing.

It was a low, gentle song—a lullaby, something I used to sing to Helene when we were little.

Malik’s entire body stilled at the first soft note. I dared not look down to see if he opened his eyes. I couldn’t have looked at him if he had. So instead, much like I had when I sang for Zara, I closed my eyes and just sang.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Malik began to relax as I continued my gentle ministrations, and one sweet song rolled into another.

It felt good to set my voice free, and I didn’t even notice when it was that Malik finally drifted off to sleep.