The king would try any means to get close to her, and Luna had understood that within two days of staying with him. The knowledge sat heavy in her chest, like a stone she couldn't set down. She was not comfortable with their current position—the way his body boxed hers into the corner of the carriage—but at the same time, worry gnawed at her ribs. What did the king intend to do to punish her? The thought made her fingertips go cold.
The ride back to the pack house dragged on, wheels grinding against stone. The king continued to hold her. His arms stayed locked around her waist, firm and unyielding. Luna could not help asking, the words scraping her throat.
"Is this my punishment?" She tried to pull free, palms pressing against his chest. Draven's arms were stronger than she'd imagined. Not crushing—he didn't bruise—but tight enough to keep her pinned, chest to chest, breath for breath. Luna trembled inwardly, a fine shake she hoped he wouldn't feel through the layers of her dress.
