The King’s Cursed Bride Sneak Peak: Chapter 62
As she stared, his flesh knit back together, and the wound vanished, leaving dried blood caked to his skin.
Elon swallowed—hard—and raked a hand through his sweat-dampened locks. “I can’t take your wounds away, as though they never were, and I can’t prevent you from ever getting hurt, but I can bear your wounds for you.”
Carissa whimpered and drew his forearm closer to her. She scrubbed at his skin with her wet wrist, and the blood wiped away. Beneath it, a scar streaked down his arm. “Oh, Elon.” She hadn’t anticipated Elon actually getting hurt on her account. “I can’t allow you to do this.”
His fingers interwove with hers. “Though the thought is kind, Carissa, it’s folly.”
Her gaze snapped to his.
“Any wound you receive would sooner or later prove to be fatal, whereas I’m gifted with the ability to heal swiftly.” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s my choice, Carissa, and I’m glad I can alleviate your pain.”
The protest died on her lips. She slumped, then grimaced in anticipation of pain. Except it never came. That’s right: Elon had healed her rib. “I’m sorry.” For all the pain he’d endured to heal her, the words felt like pitiful recompense.
Elon lifted their joined hands and kissed her freshly washed knuckles. “If you’ll turn, I’ll heal your back.”
She turned, so her bare back faced him. His fingers traced the slashes across her skin. He stiffened a few times but didn’t utter a sound. Then he smoothed his hand down her left forearm, and the burn vanished.
It was strange. Her entire body felt numb. She drew a fingernail down her arm. No, not numb. Painless. The strange absence of it, the nothingness left in the wake of his healing, was incredible. She dared to take another deep breath, her lungs expanding sharply, and stifled a giddy laugh.
“Face me, Carissa.”
She turned towards him, her chest heaving and body trembling with barely restrained joy.
He drew wet fingertips across her cheek, brows plummeting in concentration—or was it pain? The flesh on his cheek shifted, and the air snagged in her throat. The skin burst into red and pink, moisture glistening off the burn, skin slightly sagging.
Tears prickled her eyes. “Elon, I—”
“A moment, Carissa.”
His skin grew redder, angrier, slimier. Then it tightened, the color slowly fading. Where once his skin had been flawless and smooth, not it was uneven and slightly discolored.
Tears dripped freely down her cheeks now, and a sob jerked at her chest. It was the first time she’d cried without crippling pain. “Elon.”
After he’d caught his breath, he glanced up at her. His arms curled around her shoulders as he drew her near and hugged her, despite the tub’s rim awkwardly separating them. “Shhh.”