His little pet’s lack of self-preservation hadn’t been the thing that caught him off guard, not after the last couple of days, but he hadn’t anticipated the death wish she seemed to have. She’d let go of him while he dangled her off a balcony, her eyes bright and pupils wide with excitement. And after all of that, she’d asked to stitch his skin. His skin. How the fuck did a bratty royal from the light realm know how to suture a wound?
