Her lashes fluttered slightly before her eyes closed again.
Yeren let out a soft breath. The look in her eyes had melted something in him.
Gently climbing off his bed, he picked his goblet and made to leave the room.
Her sharp intake of breath made him halt in his tracks.
"Don't leave."
He knew she wasn't referring to him, but he still turned around.
Staying a few more minutes couldn't do any more harm, he rationalized.
Drawing a deep breath, he climbed into the bed beside her and pulled her into his arms.
King or not, he could not shake the feeling that she belonged there - in his arms. Her small and frail body fitted perfectly against his.
And surprisingly, she didn't fight him. Claire stopped shaking, her quiet pleas stilling to whimpers, her breathing evening.
And Yeren knew that she felt it - even though unconsciously.
He had not bothered to remove his shoes.
Every time she moved closer, he had to adjust to prevent her from feeling his arousal.
