Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 61

Chapter 61: Keep My Wife’s Name Out Your Fucking Mouth

Every item in Guinevere’s "sleepwear" drawer was designed for a locked door and an audience of one.

The audience had doubled.

She had been above the covers lying on top of Maddox for hours while he pulled fever from her body. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, her hardened nipples poking through the thin lace like they were begging for attention. Her thighs straddled his hips, pressing her core firmly down onto his throbbing erection.

His dragon, predictably, was no help. It had been purring against his ribs for hours, entirely too pleased with the arrangement

His hips twitched once involuntarily.

A baby pink camisole and shorts. Lace. Silk. Absolutely no goddamn coverage. The tamest thing she owned because of Maddox and Maddox alone.

He had opened that drawer last night like a man defusing a bomb. Every option was worse than the last. It was the winner by default, which said everything about the drawer and nothing good about his judgment.

And she was wearing it now because Maddox had put her in it.

He looked at the baby pink silk, then at Nicholas Shadowfell asleep in the chair, then at the baby pink silk, then at the ceiling.

There was no universe in which he had not seen it before he fell asleep. Maddox added her outfit to the list of problems he had caused himself and moved on to the one he could solve in the next five minutes.

Maddox: The elders called a meeting. Shadowfell is in my quarters—

Sterling: I’m on my way.

Maddox blinked. No tactical assessment of whether his presence was the optimal allocation of the Third’s time.

Odd. But he’d take it.

He shifted Guinevere off his chest, settled her on the mattress, and pulled the silk sheet up to her chin. His jaw worked once. Then he pulled the sheet higher, past her neck until the silk rested just below her ear.

He ignored his dragon, who was roaring inside his chest, demanding he climb back into that bed and finish what the fever started.

The door opened before he reached it. Sterling entered, his eyes sweeping the room.

"She hasn’t woken up yet," Maddox said, voice low. "Shadowfell gave his blood and will tell you if something feels off if I don’t first."

Sterling nodded once.

"If her temperature spikes, mindlink me first, Aldric second. If the wolf wakes, you stay in the room. He doesn’t leave, and neither does she."

"Understood, Commander."

Maddox stopped at the door. He turned his head, looking back one last time before he left.

There was a second pillow behind her head that had not been there before. Sterling was fluffing it like a mother hen, followed by repositioning the I.V. stand two inches to the left.

He then went to the bathing chamber and returned with a wet cold cloth, dabbing her forehead.

Maddox watched the most analytically gifted military mind on the continent nest. There was no other word for it.

He walked out of his own bedroom, the door closed behind him.

✦✦✦

Elder Varro exhaled through his nose. For him, that was a tantrum.

"Your Majesty. Fourteen hours. No consultation. No briefing. Two dead warriors whose families received more information than this council, and a wolf warship in the harbor that the harbor master was kind enough to tell us about." Varro set each fact on the table like a card turned face-up.

"Do you know their names?" Maddox asked, then let the silence stretch.

Varro’s jaw tightened by a fraction. "The council extends its condolences to—"

"Condolences are for hallways, Varro. I asked you a question. Did you know their names?"

Two elders on the far end exchanged a glance. The glance said: he’s doing it again. He was, in fact, doing it again.

"Calder. Wessick," Maddox answered his own question. "Say them back to me, Varro."

"Calder. Wessick," Varro repeated after an uncomfortable pause. "The council failed those men by not being in the room when the decision was made. That is the point I am making. Not a different one."

Maddox closed his eyes, pushing his dragon down who was trying to light Varro on fire. "Every man in that rescue was a volunteer and knew the risks. This council will not use those two names to score procedural points."

The other elders sat with expressions ranging from supportive to uncomfortable.

On the wall, Ryker’s expression said that’s my king with a clarity that required no words.

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