King Cyrus Valentino sat beside Amelia's bed, his fingers drumming against the chair's armrest. His expression hadn't softened even as he waited for his subordinate to bring the doctor who could tell him how severe Amelia's wounds were.
His wolf was pacing in his mind, unsettled, restless, and furious. After only a week in the royal palace, the girl known as his wife was attacked by his enemies. This wasn't just a threat to the girl's life, but a scar to the royal's protection of their people.
That was bold of them, quite strategic, he must say.
Seeing Amelia struggling to pull the pillow comfortably, he stood from his seat and helped her place it under her back. His hand brushing against her skin softly made a shiver run down her spine.
Their eyes met briefly, the innocence in her eyes captivating Cyrus for a fleeting moment as he found himself lost in her eyes for a second.
