I flinched at the sharp pain that surged through my whole body, and tried to break free from Alexander's grip, but it tightened more, holding me in place.
He stopped when his fingers sliced to the end of the line.
Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at the blood trailing from the cut, and when they kissed my lower eyelids, I quickly turned my face away from him, looking out the window to hide my fear and despair.
His grip on my hand loosened. "Look at me, Princess." Alexander's calm voice sounded like horror to me.
Reluctantly, I turned my gaze back to him. My vision were blurred with tears, but I could see how dark, and unreadable his eyes were. "Don't cry, Princess," his cold demeanor did not reflect in his voice, "No one deserves your tears. Not even me."
Seconds passed and I held Alexander's gaze, obeying his command. His expression remained cold, calculating. I wanted to desperately move as far away as possible from him, but I was afraid of receiving more injuries from my mate.
For the first time since we entered the carriage, he tore his gaze from me, and reached for something in his pocket. Slowly, he pulled out a small, white, silk cloth from his pocket, with his free hand, still holding my wrist with his other hand.
He held it out, and for a moment, I thought he might be offering me a reprieve. But then, with a swift motion, he wrapped the cloth around my wounded hand tenderly, tightening it just enough to stop the bleeding but not enough to cause me more pains.
The white cloth soaked my blood, the red stain spreading like wildfire on the fabric.
Alexander's eyes flickered back to mine. Instead of the coldness they ones had, there was a flit of regret that stayed for mere seconds. "I can't afford to let you bleed to death before we arrive our destination," his voice was softer now.
A minute passed after allowing the fabric soak all the blood, before he began unwrapping my hands. His actions tripled my fear, and I bit my bottom lips, tasting the metallic tang of my own fear. I didn't know I was trembling until I heard his words.
"You're trembling," he murmured softly, "You should relax, Princess."
Relax. The word was laughable given the circumstances, but I bit back any retort that might provoke him further.
He unwrapped the cut, placing the stained cloth by his side. There were remnants of my blood on the cut, but it wasn't oozing out like earlier. Alexander held my injured hand with both his hands, like it was something so precious or fragile that could break if mishandled.
It annoyed me that he treated it this way when he inflicted an injury on it not too long ago. My annoyance got the best of me, and as I was about to retract my hands, he lifted it to his mouth.
I froze when his soft lips pressed against the cut, his warm breath brushing against my skin. My heartbeat accelerated wildly in my chest . "What are you doing?" I asked, my voice shaking.
Alexander's eyes met mine, and for a moment, they softened. "Healing you," he murmured against my skin.
He kissed the wound again, and I felt a strange sensation where his lips touched. The pain from the cut dulled and got replaced by a warmth that spread through my hand.
I tried to pull away, but Alexander's grip was firm. "Stop fighting me, Penelope," he said softly. "You're only hurting yourself more."
I stared at Alexander confused by his actions, but more especially by his words that sounded delusional. Even if I wanted to badly, I couldn't question his sanity since he was a King. My head will end up in a pike immediately those words come out from my mouth. I won't even get the chance to deny it.
Just when I thought he had done enough, his wet tongue slid through the line of the cut, sending a wave of pleasure through my body. The stupid bond made hand licking so pleasurable when normally it should feel disgusting.
"Alexander, please," I pleaded silently.
He ignored my pleas, until his tongue slid through the cut three times. When he pulled back, his eyes bore into mine for some seconds before he finally let go of my hands.
I placed my injured hand on my thighs, unsure of how to feel. Everything that just happened was too unreal to comprehend. A king licked my hand. This was a story people would stone me to death for if I were to ever tell but it happened.
Not wanting to look at my mate in his eyes, I stared at my injured hand, only to be left dumbfounded. It wasn't possible. No werewolf possessed an ability like this. I looked up at Alexander, eye-wide, with my jaw ajar, searching for the cut.
The only thing I could find was the initial line.
A side of Alexander's lips curled. "You can't keep opening your mouth that way, Princess. I only want my tongue inside there, not insects," he teased.
I immediately closed my mouth but it didn't stop my curiosity.
"What you just witnessed is one of my birth abilities," he said proudly, "My siliva can heal."
Being an Alpha's daughter, I was properly educated on our being, in other words, werewolves, including our abilities, compared to humans, vampires, and other known creatures, and our limitations.
My father was a Lycan, but not a pure-blooded. My brother and sister too. I was the only one who turned out to be a weak Omega.
I heard rumors regarding my birth from my pack members then, but I chose to ignore them. Ignorance was bliss. I also felt it was stupid to dwell on rumors when my family loved me unconditionally.
Still, my family never possessed any of these unique abilities. My brother and sister too. How was this possible?