Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Nemeth’s eyes flutter closed again. His skin is such a strange shade of gray, blotched with the plague’s rash livid and dark against his neck. “Didn’t hate…idea. Liked it…liked you…too much.”
“Dragon shite,” I tell him in a wobbly voice, near to tears again. “They might have told you to seduce me, they might have told you to report back on me, but you didn’t have to take me as your mate. I would have been happy to be your paramour. Instead, you wanted us together. You wanted us to be mated, to give me your bite. To make me your wife. You didn’t use me like Ivornath used Meryliese. You loved me.”
“Still do.” His fingers lift from my cheek and he traces my mouth. “Understand…if you…no longer love…me.”
“Dragon shite,” I say again.
“Or trust me.”
“More dragon shite. You’re going to get better. I’m going to keep giving you my blood, and you’re going to get better. You know my blood is the cure for the plague? It’s been keeping you alive. We’re going to get you well, my love. And then we’re going to rule Darkfell together. We’re going to combine our kingdoms and make the world a better place for those of us that have survived.”
He smiles at me, tired, but the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.
I press yet another kiss to his fingertips. “Now hurry up and get better, so I can ride on your knot once more.”
The rumbly, rusty laughter that erupts from Nemeth’s chest is the best thing I’ve ever heard.
Chapter
Eighty-Four
One Week Later
Nemeth is a terrible patient.
I glare down at my mate from my spot over his bed, my hands on my hips. “I am going to grab the nearest chamberpot and pummel you over the head with it if you don’t lie back down right this instant, you absolutely infuriating Fellian.”
He ignores my scowl, trying to push himself up on his feet. “I can’t lie in bed all day long, Candra. There’s too much to be done.”
“Let someone healthy do it, you rock-brain,” I tell him, planting my hands on his chest and giving him a not-so-subtle nudge back into bed. “You’re still recovering from the plague. Your rash has just now healed. Do I need to cover you with another poultice of herbs and onion plaster?”
Nemeth makes a hideous face at that, but he doesn’t try to get out of bed again. “If you come near me with more of that plaster, I am going to scream, Candra.”
“And I am going to scream if you try to get out of bed,” I reply tartly. “So much screaming.” I give his shoulder another nudge and this time he goes down without complaint, relaxing in the bed once more. I pull the sheets up to his chest and beam, pleased. “That’s better.”
“You are an absolutely impossible woman.”
“I really am. Please don’t tell me that you’re surprised by this.” I tuck the blankets tighter around his legs, ignoring his grumbling. “You should count yourself lucky that you have my undivided attention. Fancy lords have given trunks full of jewels for less—”
Nemeth grabs my hand and pulls me down onto the bed next to him. I tumble onto the blankets, my breasts pressed against his side, and let out a squeak of surprise.
“That’s better. Now you’re quiet.” His arm slides around my waist, pinning me in place.
I poke him on his chest. “Very funny. Let me up.”
He shakes his head, gazing down at me thoughtfully. “You look tired, milettahn. I worry about you.”
“I’m fine,” I protest, though I am exhausted. The constant blood draws are taking their toll on me. Maybe I can lie here next to him for a moment. I close my eyes, snuggling against his broad chest. “It’s nice to be able to touch you without you smelling like onions.”
“Those damned poultices of yours.”
“Not mine, Riza’s. And they worked, so you hush.” I’m just so happy that he’s getting better by the day. Every time I see him and his eyes are open, shining bright with impatience to be out of bed, my world feels a little more right. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better. Annoyed that my fragile wife is exhausting herself trying to take care of everyone.” His hand goes to my belly, caressing the bulge of it. “Glad that our child is well.”
“Your child is dancing upon my bladder,” I retort, rolling onto my back a bit so he can rub my belly with ease. “He is more than well. And I’m not exhausting myself. Riza’s keeping a close eye on me. It’s just that the blood draws take a lot out of me. What would you have me do, tell those that are sick that no, I just don’t feel like giving them a portion of my blood today?”
Nemeth makes an unhappy growl in his throat. “Just because I know it is necessary doesn’t mean I like it.” He rubs the curve of my belly. “How is the plague?”