What in the world was he thinking? His head still hurt, and so did his neck and arm.
But all his blood had already flowed down to one place…
There was no stopping it, he grinned inwardly.
He looked down at her red face. Yeren could still the disbelief hiding at the corner of her eyes.
Well, it was his fault.
He should have just admitted that the poem was for her. Which other women had inspired such beautiful words from him? The last woman he had lain with was at army camp on their way to war a year ago - and it was because his men promised it would give him confidence to face his fears.
And in a way it did, but nothing could compare to the stubborn lady in front of him.
Grinning, he rolled off her and dug into the drawer of the desk beside the bed. He could feel her eyes burning into his back.
Satisfied, he returned to his position of tyranny with what he had been searching for.
Her eyes looked like two wide saucers as she watched him.
"Sit up."
