Chapter 24 Hurt in the Best Ways

Chapter 24 Hurt in the Best Ways
Hunter gathers her up in his arms gently and easily, which is not surprising given the man’s build, one arm beneath her knees and the other beneath her shoulders to steady her, then lifting her with a care that stands in stark contrast to the violence she has just endured.
His soft fur coat shifts as she presses against his body, the fabric brushing the side of her face.
The movement alone pulls another sting from her shoulder, and she winces before she can stop herself.
The sound is pretty small, barely a pained breath, but he hears it clearly.
He adjusts his hold at once so she won’t hurt, angling her body so that the wounded side is free from pressure from being pressed against his body, where it was pressed just seconds before now has a smidge of blood stain on his cloth.
The entire motion is smooth and protective, but to both of them, it is on the edge of instinctive.
She feels the strength in his arms, steadying her and absolutely knowing that it is the kind of strength that could crush her right there but instead carries her like something valuable. She is very knowledgeable about the reputation this man has as being undoubtedly the most ruthless in the land, and even though she’s in pain, she can’t help but notice how drawn she is to him, past the physical.
Her hands tremble against his chest.
She tries to shift them away so she does not wrinkle or stain his coat, but the pain flares sharply again, stealing the breath from her lungs. Her fingers curl into the fabric without her consent.
Hunter lowers his head slightly, studying the way she clings to him, then continues walking.
The corridor outside the holding room is washed in muted blue glow from crystal lanterns fixed along the walls. The palace feels different at this hour, as though the noise of the day has drained into silence, leaving only soft footfalls and the distant hum of trouble that keeps the stones warm at night.
With every step, she feels each jolt of movement deep in her wound, and her breath keeps catching in shallow, painful gasps. She tries to keep quiet, tries not to seem weak, but each time she fails, his grip tightens just slightly, as though promising that she is safe in his arms.
It’s been a day with very many firsts, especially with the way he holds her, no one has ever held her like this. Not so gently and certainly not with her well-being in mind, making sure that the part that’s torn from that one single swipe of the whip gets a single pressure, thereby hurting her.
He tries, even though it can’t help be pulled, painfully, but she tries weakly to hide the pain but her eyes gives it all away. As he walks down, it looks like he is taking her back to the dorm where the girls are gathered… at least, they really would back off from her now.
With the way her cheek rests against his chest and her accentuated hearing, his heartbeat thuds in a steady rhythm just beneath her ear, and now she understands those cheesy love lines where one party tells the other about how their heartbeat is their ‘soul’s song’.
She almost laughs but only breathes him in without meaning to… damn, he smells good, even much better up close… so good that she’d take a bite…
‘Snap out of it!’ Her wolf stirs to life within her mind, hurt from the physical pain but still attentive, as she is nestled in the hands of that one man that renders her silent. ‘He smells like safety, but I’m sure he won’t think twice about flinging you away if you take that bite.’ the wolf whispers slowly.
Amaris’s mind throbs. She is too tired to argue, too sore to even think clearly not to talk of laugh in the extremely inappropriate situation.
She notes with subtle excitement as he turns away from the hallway leading to the dorm of those shallow girls in her group, and with even more when it’s an almost familiar one.
Hunter ascends a shallow staircase, each step taken with careful precision.
His gaze stays forward, but his hold on her never relaxes. Servants along the hallway bow deeply when he passes. Some of the guards straighten even more than usual, their faces forming into stone masks, a bolder few glance at the girl in his arms with curiosity, but none of them dare ask questions when he looks to be in a murderous mood like he does now.
If they notice the tear tracks on her cheeks or the slight blood stains on his clothe, they pretend not to.
Hunter eventually turns into a quieter hallway, one lined with tall windows that overlook darkening gardens outside. The sky is settling into deep violet, streaked with fading gold from the last glimmer of sun. Lanterns inside the corridor warm the shadows, making the space feel softer.
Amaris barely registers any of the scenery around as her world has narrowed to the tall man carrying her forward.
When he reaches a carved wooden door at the end of the hall, he lifts a hand and pushes it open.
The room behind the door glows with light from a fire that’s set right below the large mantel. It is warm and spacious, with long curtains hanging from tall windows and a large bed set at the center.
Hunter steps inside fully before closing the door behind them with his heel.
Carefully, he lowers her toward the bed.
His movements slow even further as he eases her down, he cautiously adjusts her position painstakingly to avoid touching the swelling red mark on her shoulder. When her back finally meets the mattress, she lets out a breath she did not know she had been holding.
Pain still pulses hard in her shoulder and down her spine, but the bed is soft, the warmth soothing, and the entire aura in the room slowly numbs the pain in her shoulder.
Hunter remains bent over her, one hand braced on the mattress near her hip, the other hovering close to her wound. His eyes sweep across her face, her trembling breath, the way she curls slightly toward the heat of the blankets.
Then he touches her bare, cut skin gently.
His fingertip traces the edge of the cut, not pressing, just barely enough to brush away a bead of blood. The feeling makes her eyelids flutter. He breathes in sharply through his nose, as though the sight of her injury ignites something deep and furious within him, and truly enough, it does.
He is angry but here is not the place to show it.
He lifts his hand slowly, flicking away that one drop but his eyes fall on where her blood had earlier stained his skin. For a moment he simply stares at it, and his jaw tightens. She cannot read his expression, but something dark and protective flickers through it before he again wipes his fingers on a cloth at the bedside.
She tries to speak then, to tell him she is all right or that he did not need to trouble himself, but her body is suddenly too heavy while her head spins, but her fingers, still wrapped in his coat, stubbornly refuse to let go.
His gaze softens... Or she imagines it in the orange light.
He places his hand over hers, warm and steady, and pries her fingers one by one from the fabric. They resist at first, trembling and weak, but he does not rush her. He lets her body choose the pace.
When he finally frees himself, he covers her with a thick blanket, tucking the corner near her uninjured shoulder and leaving the wounded side uncovered.
Her breathing slows as exhaustion from the day’s events pulls her deeper into the mattress.
She does not realize her eyes have closed until her lashes fall heavy and her thoughts blur. The last thing she feels is the warmth of the fire and the soft hush of footsteps as Hunter steps back toward the door.
He stops there for a moment, watching her silhouette curl slightly in restless sleep, even unconscious, she flinches once, as if chasing off something in a dream.
Then without another word, he slips out silently, leaving her to a long and turbulent night, not unaware of the soft vanilla scent in the air, but one that he can’t trace except that it’s on her body.
She smells like desert.