He glanced toward the wound at his waist.
"To be honest... it does hurt a little."
Soft light spilled across his face, illuminating those dark eyes until they seemed almost dangerously bright.
Caelith bit lightly against her lower lip. Then, after a long moment of hesitation, she lowered her head and slipped beneath the covers.
Rhaegar stilled. He felt her fingers carefully lift the edge of the robes at his waist.
And then, a warm, velvety softness brushed against the skin beside his wound.
Rhaegar's breathing halted for a single moment. A sharp shiver surged upward from his waist, racing through his entire body like wildfire.
Pain? The pain vanished instantly.
All that remained was a numb, intoxicating sensation that left every nerve trembling beyond reason.
"Caelith..." His voice had already grown hoarse.
She ignored him completely. The tip of her tongue traced slow circles beside the wound, light and deliberate, as though soothing him—yet somehow also tormenting him.
