Danika rose from the bed, ignoring the way her belly growled in hunger. She hadn’t been able to eat dinner because she didn’t have an appetite for the food that was cooked—another strange occurrence because she had always enjoyed tomato bisque soup and roasted chicken.
She sighed, knowing that the sickness would soon leave her body. It had to. It was making her too tired lately, and she didn’t want Baski to know. She did her best to hide it from her—from everyone. Her illness. Her pain. Her emotional wreckage. She just had to keep being strong both for herself and the two females she had come to care for.
Danika stared at Remeta and Sally, who were sleeping beside her, quite oblivious of the world. She watched their laboured breathing. Finally, she got up from the bed when she was sure that sleep had escaped her. She might as well go outside and get some fresh air.
She put on her sleeping robe and walked out of the bedroom. Out in the hallway, it took time before her eyes could adjust to the darkness.
She walked through the empty hallway, her arms wrapping around herself. It was cold outside. She kept her footsteps soundless, so she didn’t wake the guards that were sleeping around the corner. Those on duty just ignored her as she walked.
Finally, she came out of the palace and froze.
The king? Every bone in Danika’s body locked tight, and she blinked her eyes several times to see clearly. She would know that back anywhere. Even without the expensive clothes, she’d know him anywhere.
It truly was the king.
He had his back to her, facing the wall, and was leaning against it. From afar, Danika could see his tense shoulders. He held himself so stiff, like a drawn arrow waiting to snap.
Creator, how she has missed that sight. Warmth filled her inside, and for a moment, she forgot the coldness of the night because the cool air wrapped around her like a lover’s arms as she watched him.
She could still see him through the moonless night. She drank in the very sight of him.
But his restlessness was getting to her. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was troubled.
"Even if she were miles away from him, she knew she would feel his pain as if it were her own"
This was a weak moment and he wouldn’t be having it outside if he thought anybody would see him. Danika knew she was supposed to pretend that she didn’t witness this moment and go back to her bedroom.
But she found her legs carrying her towards him even before she could try to talk her brain out of it. Not that she’d succeed, even if she had such a conversation in her mind.
He was in pain. And there was an overriding urge to soothe him.
She reached for him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
Danika.
When the feminine arms wrapped around him, he knew instantly who it was. He didn’t know how he knew who the woman was holding him in a tight embrace, but he knew it was Danika. Not Vetta, and definitely not his future bride.
How had he known that? What exactly gave her away—made her touch so unique? Was it because the rare calmness settled over him the instant her arms contacted his midriff or because all the voices of the past—demons of the past—in his head suddenly went silent?
Or perhaps it was because a certain peacefulness suddenly settled over him, lifting his soul and soothing over the pain in his bitter heart?
All those thoughts made him stiffen his shoulders even more in rejection, but her arms tightened around him. He felt her head on his back, and then she swiveled her head to the side so that her cheek was pressing into him.
“Danika.” His voice was hoarse.
“My king,” she whispered.
Her voice wrapped around him like a cloak, stronger than the soft arms around his middle. He had not realized how much he had missed that voice until he heard it whispering to him now.
“Let me go.” It was supposed to be a command, but it came out like a plea.
“No. Please, let me hold you. You’re hurting.”
In the back of his mind, it registered that it was the first time she was ever saying ‘no’ to him. The first time she was blatantly disobeying him. For him.
“Danika.” This second time was a hoarse warning.
She shuddered against him, shaking her head wordlessly on his back. He felt wetness on his back and knew that it was from her tears. It is no longer as cold out here, Lucien thought. His heart no longer felt so hurt and bereft. And it was all because of her.
Who was this woman?
How did she have such power over him? How could she do the things she did so effortlessly, with just a single touch?
Danika knew the moment the tension drained from the king’s colossal body. He made a move, and she loosened her arms around him. He pulled away from her and turned around to face her. Blue eyes and a face devoid of emotions stared down at her.
Danika couldn’t even imagine how she looked. She had tears running down her face, and her hair must be messy from tossing around in bed. She’d bet she’d lost some weight, too, because of how little she had kept down. Lately, she regurgitated most of her food after eating. All that wasn’t what was supposed to bother her. She’d blatantly disobeyed him a few moments ago, and he could easily have her head for that.
It wasn’t her primary concern.
Her eyes raked over his body to make sure it wasn’t physical discomfort that had him pressed against the wall. Tears of relief joined the tears that were already making their way down her cheeks as she saw he was physically fine. He might be an emotional wreck, but physically, he was not hurt.
“You’re fine.” Love, concern, and relief filled her voice as the whisper rushed past her lips, and her eyes finally found his.
His eyes flashed.
The silence of the night stretched as she looked him in the eyes, getting drunk from the very gaze of him. One could easily get lost in his eyes—eyes devoid of warmth and filled with pain.
Suddenly, he grabbed hold of her arm and tugged her closer to him.
One moment, the night air was caressing her front, and the next, he buried her face in his wide chest, and his powerful arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace.