Chapter 215: You’re Going To Be The Death Of Me, Little Witch
The morning light was still streaming through the broken windows, cold air drifting in, but he didn’t care about that right now. He laid her down on the bed, arranging her carefully among the pillows and blankets, making sure she was comfortable.
She curled into the covers with a small, satisfied sound, her face pressing into the pillow, her body snuggling deeper into the warmth of his bed.
And she smiled.
Even in her sleep, even completely unconscious, she smiled like she was exactly where she wanted to be.
Kaelen stood there for a moment, simply watching her.
And then he looked down at himself.
His cock stood at full attention, hard as stone, rigid with desire and frustration and absolute, exquisite need.
He cursed softly, careful not to wake her.
This was torture. This was absolute, unmitigated torture.
He had her in his bed. He had access to her. He had spent the entire night learning every inch of her body, had made her scream his name, had felt her magic erupt around him.
And now his body was responding to nothing more than the sight of her sleeping peacefully, her dark hair spilled across his pillow, her skin glowing in the morning light, wearing absolutely nothing but his marks on her body.
He wanted to wake her. He wanted to take her again. He wanted to feel her wrap around him, wanted to hear her gasp his name, wanted to make her come so hard that her magic exploded through his chambers again.
But she was asleep. Completely, thoroughly, utterly asleep.
And as much as GLACIUS roared inside him, demanding that he take what was his, Kaelen understood that she needed rest more than she needed anything else right now.
Which left him in an absolutely impossible situation.
He couldn’t take her....she was sleeping.
He couldn’t leave her.....he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
And he certainly couldn’t take care of the problem his body was insisting on while she was lying naked in his arms.
Kaelen looked down at his cock, then back at her sleeping peacefully, then back down again.
And then he laughed....a low, frustrated, absolutely bitter sound.
The irony was almost painful.
He had just spent the most intense night of his existence with her. He had made her come multiple times. He had felt her magic erupt around him. He had brought her body to complete and total surrender.
And now she was so exhausted that she couldn’t even stay conscious long enough for him to touch her in the bath.
It was ridiculous. It was infuriating. It was absolutely perfect.
He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, being careful not to disturb her.
"You’re going to be the death of me, little witch," he murmured against her skin, though she couldn’t hear him.
And then he straightened up, looked down at the problem that was his arousal, and cursed again.
There was only one solution.
Kaelen walked back toward the washroom, muttering to himself in a low, frustrated voice.
"A cold bath," he said aloud, as if saying it would make it more bearable. "I need a very, very cold bath. Maybe ice water. Maybe snow. Maybe i should just stand outside in the courtyard and let the frost handle this particular problem."
He sank his legs into in the cold water....so cold it made his skin sting just looking at it, and steeled himself.
This was going to be miserable.
But it was necessary.
He eased himself into the water, and immediately regretted every decision that had led him to this moment.
The cold was shocking, almost painful, and it did nothing....absolutely nothing, to calm the insistent hardness between his legs.
He cursed in at least four languages, gripping the edge of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white.
"This is not helping," he muttered to himself, sinking lower into the water, letting the cold envelop him completely.
The contrast was almost worse....the warmth of his own arousal against the bitter cold of the water, creating a friction that was somehow both miserable and still somewhat satisfying.
He sat there for a long moment, simply enduring, letting the cold water do its work.
Slowly...agonizingly slowly, his body began to respond to the cold rather than to the thought of her sleeping naked in his bed.
He stayed in the water longer than he needed to, using the time to gather himself, to prepare for what came next.
***
Finally, when his skin was nearly numb with cold, Kaelen pulled himself out of the water.
He dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist.
For a moment, he stood at the threshold of the washroom, looking back toward his bed where she was sleeping.
The morning light caught her dark hair, making it gleam. The covers had shifted slightly, and he could see the curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her neck, the evidence of his marks on her pale skin.
Every instinct he had screamed at him to return to her. To climb back into bed. To wake her and claim her again.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he took a deep breath, steadied himself, and prepared to face the complications that awaited.
***
*KAELEN’S CHAMBERS*
The knock on the door came too early and too loudly, shattering the intimate silence of Kaelen’s chambers like glass.
Morgana jolted awake at the sound, her eyes flying open, her heart leaping into her throat. For a moment, she was disoriented, the unfamiliar ceiling, the unfamiliar bed, the reality of where she was and what had happened crashing down on her all at once.
The door opened.
Agnes entered first, moving with the purposeful stride of someone who had been attending to kings for decades. Her silver-streaked dark hair pulled back in a neat bun and eyes that had seen everything the palace could possibly offer. Behind her came Rowan, followed by two younger maids carrying trays laden with food and various bottles of salves and ointments.
Agnes’s eyes found Morgana on the bed, and a slow, knowing smile spread across her weathered face.
"Oh, you poor child," she said, her voice carrying a note of sympathy mixed with something that was distinctly amused. "His Majesty certainly kept you occupied last night."