“Food?” Rokath asked next with a quirk of his brow.

I nodded. He slid from the bed, baring his full body to me, and I nearly choked on air. Every muscle flexed as he walked, and more than that, his cock swung freely too. It had been inside me, and gazing upon it now, I wondered how in all the worlds it had fit.

Despite my fatigue and malaise, my low belly clenched at the sight of him. I didn’t realize how long I’d been staring until a finger tilted my chin up and I was gazing into his eyes. Matching desire swirled in them, but he cleared his throat and waved a roll of bread in front of my face. “Open wide.”

Fates, why is that so sexual?

But I did, and he tore a piece and placed it there. I chewed quickly, stomach begging for more, then opened my mouth again. Rokath was fucking feeding me and I was letting him. I should have felt ashamed, humiliated, any number of things. But instead, I felt content and safe.

What is wrong with me?

Surely a near-death experience wasn’t enough to completely change the dynamics of our relationship.

Rokath offered another morsel to me, and I accepted it again, but this time my tongue brushed lightly against his fingers. A groan, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it, rumbled in his chest. I flicked my gaze down, watching as his dick engorged and lengthened along his thigh. “Eyes up here,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “I need to take care of you and I can’t do that if you keep sending waves of desire in my direction.”

Cutting my attention back to him, he picked another piece and fed it to me, this time merely dropping it into my mouth. His cool exterior didn’t stop his true feelings from slipping down our bond though. A flash of my breasts appeared in my mind, as if I was looking at myself through his eyes. Which I realized, I was.

At least the light blanket pooled around my waist, covering the one I was making between my thighs.

Finally, the bread was gone, and he offered me more water. I sucked the rest of it down, too quickly, and some spilled over the sides and down my cheeks. In a flash, Rokath caught the liquid and swiped it away. Fire licked my skin where he touched me.

His hand hovered a breath away from my face, and I lowered the empty glass slowly, eyes locked so firmly with his. Tension stretched between us too, so taut that I wondered when it would snap. And what would happen when it did.

Protectiveness wove its way alongside it, and my breath hitched from the intensity of it.

I’d tried to run from him because he didn’t want me. Yet what I emanated from him now…it was entirely different. Whether it was the bond forcing him to act this way or whether he did of his own accord, I wasn’t certain.

“How do you feel now?” he asked slowly, as if he was gauging my every reaction to his words.

“Better,” I murmured, body beginning to loosen as whatever Rokath had given me wound its way through my veins. As my mind blurred, I realized it was a vial of poppy, like the one I’d given Olrus after Vagach had beaten him so horribly.

A shiver wracked my frame as the memory sprung to life behind my eyes. A low growl rumbled in Rokath’s chest. “How badly did he hurt you?” He’d seen scraps of that scene during the flashback he triggered by grabbing me from behind.

“That day? Not nearly as bad as he had before,” I said, sliding down so I was lying on my back again. Rokath settled beside me, propping his head on his fist. The knuckles were white, and I couldn’t help but stare at the tattoos that stretched across them and wound their way up his arm. I reached out to touch them, a sharp pain stabbing my shoulder as I attempted to move the wrong one.

Instead, Rokath came to me, caressing my cheek with his other hand. He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, then rested his hand on my throat. The blood that thrummed there beat into his palm. “He never should have had you.”

A scoff slipped out before I could smother it. “It was your rules that allowed him to marry me without my consent. All he needed was to ask my father. Then, he had complete control over me. You should be mad at yourself.”

Rokath scooted closer until he was flush with the left side of my body.

When did he move over there?

I looked at him again, those strong brows pinched over his deep burgundy eyes. Ones that held so much pain, much like my own. His heart thumped steadily, slowly, against my shoulder. With the tip of his finger, he traced my collarbone, pebbling my skin. I sighed and leaned into the comfort he offered me.

Everything hurt so bad, and this was taking away the pain.

“I am,” he admitted, so quiet I almost assumed I’d imagined the words floating into the air.

I blinked twice, my lids growing heavier and heavier. “Then why don’t you do something about it?” I challenged, but my voice lacked any bite. If anything, it was softer than Grem and Zeec’s fur.

Grem and Zeec…where were they? They’d been with me in the desert when I tried to run…

“The dogs,” I rasped, my tongue thick in my mouth.

“They’re with Rapp.” Rokath brushed his knuckles across my cheek.

A minute passed. Or was it a second? Haze crept around the edges of my mind.

“Sleep, Assyria,” Rokath rumbled, his voice like gravel tumbling down the side of the Skala Mountains. “I’ll be here the entire time. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

I dragged my head forward again, glimpsing the pitched ceiling of the black tent. Or were my eyes closed and that darkness was the recesses of my mind where I locked away my worst memories?

A mosaic of color replaced it. Flashes of burnt green, frothy blue, and blood red. Spice, musk, and sweat filled my nostrils. Something warm wrapped my body as I drifted, drifted, drifted…

“I’d kill him again for hurting you, Assyria. You were always meant to be mine. I don’t know how to deal with everything I’m feeling. It’s been so long since I was forced to feel anything at all. I was terrified when I realized you’d run, and into the middle of the Paks Desert of all fucking places. I can’t tell you any of this while you’re conscious because I don’t know how you’d respond. At least now, while you’re asleep, I can speak.”

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43

“Assyria,” a voice echoed from the distance. The sound reminded me of rolling thunder, how it vibrated against my chest as it boomed through the sky. Something slipped under my back, and I groaned. When my head lolled, I opened my eyes. Rokath was curled over me, helping me to sit upright. Our gazes collided like a lightning strike, and then, more alertness slid into me, though my mind remained partly cloudy, like that storm had finally rolled through but wasn’t quite finished with me yet.

“I need to give you some more medication,” he explained.

I nodded wearily. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he replied, gingerly retreating. I yawned, then attempted to roll my shoulders, only to be met with a sharp pain. Right, my shoulder. Glancing down, I found my right arm still bound to my side.

The ache in my calf had lessened, at least.

“Drink this,” Rokath said, reappearing with a vial of green liquid.

“What is it?” I asked as he flicked off the cork.

“Liquid pium. It will speed up your healing significantly.” The bed sank as he crawled onto it. Sitting cross legged, he faced me. I shuffled so I was in a slightly more comfortable position, then took the potion in my left hand.

I threw it back, pulling a face at the sharp flavor that crossed my tongue. It was nothing like the tea I’d shared with Kiira. With a cough, I handed it back to him. Rokath produced a glass of water, and I readily gulped it down. The liquid soothed my parched throat, drier than the desert that surrounded us. “Can I have more?” I asked.