The King's Cursed Bride

Never Letting Go

Carissa released the hem of the shirt, her courage lost. "Not particularly."

"You said you would tell me all once we were safe."

Carissa folded her arms tightly over her chest, her gaze scanning the black trees. She certainly didn't feel safe.

"I will keep you safe, Carissa." He turned her to face him. "He will not touch you again."

Guilt and sympathy churned within her. She hated that he worried so much over her. After all, what had happened wasn't truly his fault. Carissa shook her head, her gaze falling away from Elon's. "It matters little, Elon. He didn't violate me like he has before, if that is of comfort to you."

Frustration flickered across his face—in the flaring of his nostrils, the clenching of his jaw. "That is not of comfort."

She drew back from him. "If you want to know, then I'd best show you rather than tell you."

Carissa turned her back to him and, before she could contemplate her actions, she drew her shirt over her head and tossed it to the ground. Though she longed for the covering it afforded, she was glad to have it off. It was in disrepair—from where she'd torn the bottom to bind Lila's hand—and its smell reminded her of Akar.

She fumbled with the rope she'd knotted around her waist, so she could slip off her trousers, but her hands were perspiring and trembling so badly that she couldn't loosen it.

Leaves crinkled behind her, and she felt Elon's warmth at her back. "Could I be of assistance?"

She nodded, and Elon walked around her to face her. He knelt in front of her, so his head was level with her waist, and began plucking the rope free of its tight knot.

When it was loosened, Carissa let her trousers fall to the ground. The fabric swallowed her ankles, and she nearly tripped trying to step out of it. Elon steadied her with a light touch to her waist, using his free hand to disentangle her ankles from the pants.

Once she wore nothing but her undergarments, he sat back, his legs folded beneath him. She resisted the urge to try and shield her body with her arms and instead followed his gaze to her torso and legs. A few bruises appeared as mere brown smudges, while others were a vivid purple, clearly in the shape of fingers. Against her ghostly pale skin, every mark Akar had left was clearly visible.

Carissa finally succumbed and folded her arms across her chest. It did little to cover her, but it brought her a degree of comfort.

Elon drew a sharp breath, the first noise he'd made in minutes. "Carissa..."

"It's alright, Elon."

"Is it? Because I'm not so certain." His breathing quickened, making his chest heave. "For your sake, I wish he were dead. For mine, I'm glad he still breathes. Perhaps I'll have the honor of killing him myself." Elon's eyes burned dark and hot, smoldering like heated coals. This was no idle threat.

Carissa flinched, though she knew his wrath wasn't directed at her.

Elon rose and slipped his fingers beneath her chin before lifting her gaze to his, his touch gentle as ever. "Should we encounter him again, and I think it likely we will—"

A violent shudder rippled through her body.

"—then he will suffer no short death."

Rarely had she seen Elon so angry, much less express a wish for violence. "You won't try to grant him mercy?"

"I already have, or I wouldn't resort to this. He personally saw to your suffering, and I will see to his." Elon released a slow breath, the anger gradually ebbing from him. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder, his thumb sweeping across her skin.