The Feral King's Bride by Mona Black

Author:Mona Black
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy romance, romantic fantasy, fae romance, fairytale romance, fairytales, fairytale fantasy, elves, royalty romance, shifters, shifter romance, witches, magical romance
Publisher: Black Wing Press
Published: 2022-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MINA

I fall asleep beside him on the bed, only to wake up to him thrashing and groaning.

For a long moment, I’m frozen, transported back to the previous night, deathly afraid that the poison is killing him, that he’s not in the clear yet, that I’m witnessing his death throes. The room is fairly dark, the night outside black as pitch, the moon having set for a while. The flames in the fireplace have turned to embers and as my eyes adjust, I can see him trembling, one hand fisted in the covers, eyes scrunched shut.

Then yesterday’s events rush back in and I slump against the pillows, my breath leaving me in a great rush along with my fear.

He’s all right. I know what this is.

“Wake up, Wolf!” I grip his muscular shoulder, shake him. “It’s a dream. Wake up!”

“What!” He sits up so suddenly he almost headbutts me, then grabs my wrist, his grip crushing. “What is it?”

“Ow. Let go.”

“You...” His eyes gleam in the dimness like gems. “Princess.” His fingers open and I draw my hand back, cradling it to my chest. “Damn, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Let me see.”

“It’s okay.” The pain is fading and the worry in his voice almost undoes me. “Are you all right?”

“Nightmare,” he says shortly.

“I figured. Want to tell me what it was about? It looked like a bad one.”

“Tell you?”

“Well, you know, talking about it helps sometimes to feel better. Put some distance between the present and what you dreamed of.”

“Is that what you do?”

I shrug. “When I used to live in the palace, I did. My cousins were always around the corner. We sometimes slept in the same bed. Touching someone after a nightmare brings comfort.”

And how doesn’t he know that? Has nobody held him after a nightmare?

As if in reply to my thoughts, he rasps, “My mother used to do that when I was little. That was long ago. I grew up.”

“Everyone needs comfort,” I whisper, “young or old.” But he’s sitting very still, his breathing still ragged, and when I reach for him, he flinches—a tiny movement, but I feel it in my bones. “What did you dream of?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“And if I do?”

He turns to face me, lips parting. “You...” He draws an uneven breath. “I told you I remembered everything. There are things, though, that are better left forgotten.”

“What happened?”

He doesn’t speak for a while. The embers crackle in the hearth. Outside the double doors, one of the guards drags his spear on the flagstones and says something in low tones to someone.

This time, when I reach for Wolf, he allows the touch. I rub his arm, up to the thick biceps, to the wide plane of his shoulder. “It’s okay. Forget it.” I run my fingertips up his neck, to his jaw.

He catches my wrist, gentler this time. “Mina... I lived in your world for decades. I was caught more than once wandering, lost and confused, and later on in battle. I’ve been a prisoner more than once.

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