Page 77 of Wolf Caged (Bound to the Shadow King #1)

KAELERON

H ours passed without Saphira returning to the castle, and I found myself landing outside the remote cottage in a swirl of shadows and starlight, the noise of the castle falling away into silence that normally felt comforting whenever I came to this place.

Only this time, I found myself straining to hear movement on the other side of the worn wooden door before me, a sign that Saphira had not run from my court and was still within the safety of the castle walls.

Light footsteps sounded inside the cottage and I breathed a little easier as I stepped back and summoned my shadows, intending to return to the castle now I knew she was safe and had not run from me.

Only the door opened, as if she had sensed my presence, and she peered around it, an awkward edge to her beautiful face as she avoided my gaze.

“Are you okay?” she whispered as she looked at anything but me.

“Malachi would not have killed me.” I tilted my head and frowned. “I do not think so anyway. You did not need to intervene.”

The darkness that crossed her delicate features told me she had needed to intervene and the way her air of awkwardness grew said she had not been able to stop herself and was still shocked by the violence of her reaction.

Her gaze slid to the left, beyond my boots. “Is Vyr okay?”

Her brow furrowed as she asked that, and I would have to have been blind to miss how she felt about what she had done to my sister, and how she feared what it might mean for their relationship.

“My sister is well and bears you no ill will, little wolf. She understands why you reacted as you did and you are already forgiven. No harm has been done.”

My words did not seem to offer her the relief I had hoped they would, because she frowned and glared at the grass beyond me, a sombre darkness to her expression that I found I did not like.

I did not want the little wolf to feel ashamed of what she had done, to feel she had ruined her relationship with my sister, but I was at a loss as to what I could say to her to make her believe that Jenavyr really did not bear her any kind of ill will and their friendship remained unchanged, as strong as ever.

“Did what you do really warrant such a brutal response from the demon?” She looked at my boots, still avoiding my face, but it was progress.

“Malachi has his reasons, and I knew what would happen the moment I handed over coin in exchange for you. I was prepared for it.” I checked her over as I answered her, ensuring she was unharmed, but unable to see much of her body.

The robe swamped her, concealing her curves and rousing my curiosity and a need to slowly strip it from her.

She lifted her head, but the anger that sparked in her blue eyes and her scent faded the instant her gaze landed on me, washed away by horror. “Didn’t you go to see the court physicians?”

I inspected my torn tunic with a shrug. “I will heal without their help. Nothing here requires their intervention. I was going to bathe after I checked on you.”

“To make sure I hadn’t run away.” Her tone was accusing and sharp.

I shook my head. “No. I knew you would not be so foolish.”

But some part of me hadn’t been sure and I had been compelled to check she was safe.

She stepped back, holding the door open, and I frowned at her actions, the silent invite, and she huffed at me for it. “I’ll bathe them and tend to them. Consider it repayment for the kindness you showed me… but I also want a nice hefty sum taken off my debt.”

It was said teasingly, as if she no longer thought there was a debt between us.

I was not sure that there was.

I nodded and stepped into the cottage, and did not fail to notice that she had made the space more to her liking.

The double bed had been moved against the wall facing the fireplace, and she had shifted the fur rug to the space between the foot of it and the fire, and had set the two armchairs facing each other on either side of it.

The room felt cosier this way, despite the fact the head of the bed was now near the door.

She picked at the edge of the door as she caught me taking in the room. “I like my feet warm in bed. My bed back at my pack was positioned like this, and during the colder months, I always loved how the fire kept the chill off my feet.”

I noticed how she had said back at her pack.

Not back home.

Was she beginning to consider my court her home now?

I was not sure how that made me feel. I was not sure how I should feel. My eyebrows pitched low as she hurried past me and filled a large washbowl with water. Pleased. I felt pleased that she thought of my court as her home, that she had plans to remain here, close to me.

“I trained as a healer, like my mother. She’s taught me everything she knows and I’ve worked for years taking care of minor wounds for members of my pack.

” She went to the fire and set the bowl down on the stone hearth, placing a cloth into the water, and then looked at me.

“I’d love to study how to help fae with ailments and wounds.

I’m sure it’s a little different to treating a wolf. ”

Some deeply rooted part of me warmed, more than pleased as Saphira shared this side of herself so easily with me, allowing me to learn more about her, and strengthening that feeling that she did not want to leave the Shadow Court.

She did not wish to return to her pack.

She wanted to remain here.

With me.

And gods, there was a part of me that wanted that.

I obeyed her silent order when she pointed to the space before her, closing the door behind me and crossing the room to her as she pushed the armchair back slightly to make room for me to stand on the stone floor.

She stood and faced me, her hands coming up, her fine eyebrows pinching as she studied my ruined clothes.

Her fingers made light work of undoing my tunic and her expression only darkened as she pushed it off my shoulders, leaning close to me as she worked it down my arms, her breath bathing my skin.

Maddening.

While she bent and rung the cloth out, I tugged off my boots and set them aside. The first touch of the cold cloth against my chest pulled a hiss from me, and her look was chiding, teasing.

“Baby,” she whispered.

“Shall we find out how you would take it if I placed a cold wet cloth against your skin, little wolf?” I lowered my gaze to her black robe. The neck of it had gaped open slightly from her bending over, revealing creamy skin that I wanted to lick and taste.

A pleasant distraction as she bathed my wounds, carefully cleaning them one by one.

Each time she bent to clean the cloth and wring it out, her robe parted a little more.

Great Mother. My pulse picked up as I gazed at the hint of cleavage she had unwittingly exposed, my cock growing hard as I imagined lowering my head to stroke my tongue up the valley between her pert breasts.

She huffed as she tracked the path of my gaze and fixed her robe, stealing the beauty of her body from me.

And slapped the wet cloth against my chest.

I shuddered as the water rolled down my stomach and soaked into the waist of my pants.

“You’re healing fast,” she murmured as she inspected the worst of the cuts, a gash that started at my right shoulder and darted across it. “A fae thing? Or a king thing?”

“My innate magic takes care of most wounds for me.” I prodded the area around the gash, pleased at the progress it had made in such a short amount of time.

What had been gushing blood when Malachi had given me the wound just a few short hours ago was now little more than a pink streak of irritated skin.

“The proximity to Beltane is partly responsible. I have not expended much magic in the short time between then and now.”

Her cheeks slowly pinkened as she stared at my chest, her lips parting slightly as her gaze grew hooded.

Thinking about what we had done that night?

She stroked her fingertips across my chest, her blue eyes distant as they tracked her fingers, tracing the shape of my left pectoral.

“What do the fae markings you have mean?” Her fingers followed the line of where they would have been had my true nature been at the fore, and I suppressed a shiver as she stroked them over my pebbled nipple.

“Words of protection and strength, and our bond to the Great Mother, the goddess Lucia.”

“They were beautiful.” She stiffened and her gaze leaped to clash with mine, and then she cleared her throat and went to the bowl, picking it up and carrying it to the sink to avoid me.

To avoid what she had said.

The temptation to tease her about the fact she believed me beautiful was strong, but I suppressed it and watched her instead, watched how that blush deepened and the scent of desire on her grew stronger, rousing my own aching need of her.

When she looked over her shoulder at me through her fall of silver hair, a shyness to her that was at odds with the heat in her eyes—a need I could name—I had never felt more aware of being alone with her.

So far from everyone.

I had never felt less aware of my role as a king, or even my relentless need for vengeance.

When I was with her, and she was looking at me like that, I forgot a lot of things.

She consumed my focus.

She slowly came back to me, and rather than telling me to leave, or hiding from her desire, she laid her hand on my chest and ghosted her fingers across it in a maddening caress.

I did not stop her as she stroked my chest, as she skimmed her fingers up my neck to my ear and traced up the outside of it to the silver clasp that concealed its pointed tip.

My gaze grew hooded as she gently removed it, as she watched her fingers while she drove me wild with a soft caress along the top of my ear, to the sensitive tip of it.

A shudder wracked me, my breath hitching as my blood burned, as need for her transformed into a hunger that made me feel I was starving and only she could save me.

“Are they really so sensitive?” she whispered, her gaze bold on my face, watching as I crumpled from that light touch, as she pulled down my walls and brought me to my knees with it.

Her smile when I nodded warmed the darkest reaches of my soul, so teasing but so pleased. “Do you let your lovers do this?”

I frowned and caught her wrist when I realised where this was heading. “I do not have time for lovers.”

“You don’t?” Her eyebrows rose. “I’m new to this… but that seems like a terrible shame. I don’t think I’d want to be without this now that I’ve experienced it. I couldn’t imagine going weeks let alone years without pleasure.”

She stroked her other hand down my chest, down my stomach, and my fingers tensed around her wrist as she flattened her palm against it, her fingers pointed downwards, and advanced lower.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, sounding far too breathless.

Her expression was matter of fact as she looked up at me and inched her hand lower, and I sucked my stomach in at the pleasure and need that bolted through me at the thought she might touch me.

“Showing you how good it feels when you touch me. Taking care of you for once.” She edged her hand into my pants and I groaned as her skin met mine, her palm pressing against my aching erection.

I held her gaze as she touched me for the first time, finding no trace of hesitation or fear in her eyes. Not even a hint of nerves. She was bold as she easily broke my hold, as she wrapped her fingers around my cock and used her other hand to tackle the laces of my pants.

My breaths shortened as she palmed me, stripping me of all defences with that touch.

And when she slowly kneeled before me on the rug and eased my aching shaft free of my leathers, her gaze scalding it, I was undone.

“I’ve never done this before.” Her gaze lifted to meet mine as she quietly confessed that.

And then her mouth was on me, her wet heat embracing my cock that went harder still at the feel of her, and I buried my hand in her hair, my breath abandoning me. Great Mother.

She stroked me with her tongue, tasting the length of me, her low hum of pleasure vibrating down my shaft.

I groaned as she took me back into her mouth, as she sucked and rolled her tongue, pressing it to the ridge along my cock as she withdrew again.

My fingers tightened in her hair and need spiralled within me, threatening to steal control as she explored me, tentatively stroking her tongue over the broad head, licking the slit, her need perfuming the air stronger with each second that ticked past.

She moaned as I eased back into her mouth, deeper this time, fighting for restraint, and sucked as I withdrew.

When I plunged forwards again, holding her head in place, she gripped my hips, short claws pressing into my flesh as another low moan of pleasure twined with mine.

I groaned as I lost myself in taking her mouth, as she laved and sucked me and began moving her head on me, countering my movements, making my heart race faster and blood surge hotter.

Great Mother.

I squeezed my eyes shut as my control shattered and she moaned as I plunged into her mouth, as I imagined it was her sweet pussy gripping me so hot and hard, so greedily.

I grunted and tightened my grip on her hair, holding her on me as my other hand shot out to brace against the mantelpiece, keeping me upright as my legs weakened beneath me.

My balls tightened. Seed boiled up my shaft.

I bellowed her name as I unleashed it, as my cock throbbed and jerked, jetting seed into her mouth. Pleasure rocked me, blinding me as my legs threatened to give out, as Saphira sucked me still, swallowing around me, a hungry growl ripping from her as she devoured what I had given her.

And when she drew back, her gaze was hot, needy and demanding.

I knew what she wanted.

What she needed.

And this time, I was not going to hold back.