The man's skin is cold and sticky with sweat against her palm when Cielle cradles his face and calls out for him in desperate cries.
He doesn't budge, nor does his eyes flutter open at her plea.
Cielle feels a heavy weight in her chest crushing her heart until it stings inside her ribcage. She does not know why this man's agony grips her like it does, maybe it is the good in her that makes her able to feel for others, to comprehend their pain unlike the people standing beside her not even trying to conceal the laughs stumbling out of their mouth.
This is sick. They are sick.
Her shaky hand slithers to his bare chest which is shiny with a sheer string of sweat and crimson blood. She presses her palm right on top of his chest where his heart would be, and the relief that washes over her when she feels the faint beat of his heart against her skin feels like cold water down her dry throat after a long day in a desert.
Cielle cradles his face to her chest, "You will be alright." She chantes those same words again and again in his ears as if it were a mantra that would bring him back to life.
"Get up, Cielle. It's time for us to return back." The Lord says, his voice laced with boredom and apathy. As if he couldn't care less about the man who is on the verge of dying in this cold cell in which he has locked him up.
"He needs to be treated, Uncle." Cielle doesn't try to soften her glare as she stares at the Lord, nor does she feel afraid of the way his face darkens or his jaw clenches at her lack of respect. "Take him to the infirmary, now!" Cielle spits to the guards, anger gushing into her tone.
"No one is taking him anywhere." The lord grumbles, "You know little about that creature, Cielle. He is not a Fae, he is a fucking dragon. He will be as new as a new bloom when you come to visit him tomorrow. That's how fast he heals."
Cielle's eyes widen at his new declaration. The fascination that was squished under horror and concern peeking its head out. How more magical can this creature be? She wonders.
"Come on, get up."
Cielle tightens her arms around the man, not caring how his blood is now imprinted on her silky white night robe and she knows the reminder of it would still be there even after it is washed away. "I don't want to leave him here."
A growl of annoyance seeps through her uncle's mouth, "He does not deserve your sympathy, Cielle. Get up now."
Anger burns from inside her like an inferno. "If I cannot have sympathy toward my own dragon, then who would have?" She spits. "He would not spend a minute more here. Tell the maids to prepare the chamber near my own for him and take him there." She orders the knights. Even though they do not seem to be delighted to take an order from the princess, they have no other way.
The Lord stays silent the whole time as one of the knights rushes to tell the maid to prepare the chamber for him and the others take the man to the palace, but Cielle can feel the heat of his glare burning her cheeks.
***
Cielle swears she has never seen a man this beautiful in her entire life, and her heart has never quite threatened to break out of her chest just by staring at their beauty but this man is an exception.
His tanned skin is glowing under the candlelight where the skin is not burning red with the cuts, muscles buffed on his biceps where it is limp by his sides, and hard curves line his abdomen in an enhancing way. Cielle rarely sees anyone with this bare minimum of clothing and this being a man does not help at all.
Now, the ink that swirled on his chest is clear for her to comprehend. They are wings— massive and dark on both sides of his chest. Her fingers itches to trail over them, but she refuses to surrender to her instincts.
He is now out of that cold, dreadful cell and comfortable under the fur blankets covering him from down his waist, his head resting on a feather pillow. Cielle feels the flickers of satisfaction burning bright in her core as he watches him slumping. No more in pain or agony.
Her fingers mindlessly run through the dark curls of his hair, eyes refusing to leave the beauty of his face.
When the maids cleaned him out of blood and sweat, and bathed him fresh, Cielle requested them to leave, telling them that she would take care of him from now on. They refused at first, not knowing why a princess would tend to a low life. But in front of her firm order, they couldn't stand strong.
Now they are alone here, in his new chamber. And it gives Cielle enough time and privacy to watch him all to her heart's content.
"I'm sorry for what they put you through…" She whispers, fingers getting tangled in the silky curls of his hair. "I never take my uncle to be that cruel."
She can still see the smile of satisfaction that curves her uncle's mouth each time the whip slices through the dragon's skin. She can still hear those laughs of apathy ring in the air when the man lay on the ground almost lifeless. Cielle does not understand their obsession to witness someone suffer, she does not understand why their heart is filled with such darkness.
Cielle is so submerged in her rippling thoughts that it takes her a moment of time to notice the slight movement of his head under her palm.
When her eyes ride to him from the floor, her gaze collides with those glowing, golden orbs staring right into her soul.
***
A/n: How do you guys like this story so far? I'm craving to know your thoughts, so please consider commenting and voting! Also, add this to your library if you haven't already. Thank you for reading!