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She woke in a cave with luminous moss creating a soft indigo glow on the walls. She was lying close to a pool of shimmering iridescent blue water, and she was lying against Wrath. His big arm cradled her body against his chest, her injured wing draped gently over his forearm. And Haziel felt completely safe.
He must have sensed her wake, because he whispered, “Angel?”
She meant to say something blithe and bright, to allay the deep concern throbbing in his bass voice. What she said instead was, “Gargh.” Or something close to that.
His large hand cupped her cheek and stroked hair away from her face. “Just rest, sweetheart,” he murmured. “We’ll have you better in no time.”
“My wing.” She dared not move for fear of starting the torment again. So far, her attempt to keep her injury quiet was going swimmingly.
“The humerus is broken,” he said. “I splinted it and did as much healing as I could. I think if you keep it still for a day or two, it’ll repair itself.” He nudged her face up with a finger. “Here.” He put a bottle against her lips. “Take a sip or two of water and then get some more rest.”
“Thank you,” she managed before taking a sip of water. “You should leave me here. Find Eddie.” Sleep pushed her eyelids back together again.
“I’m not leaving you.” Wrath muttered close to her ear, and she felt the soft press of his lips to her forehead before she drifted back to the place where it didn’t hurt so much.
Warm breath huffed down her neck when she woke the second time. Her head felt clearer, and she could wiggle the fingers of her right hand without pain exploding through her. Her other wings must have retracted because her spine was pressed to Wrath’s chest. The slow rise and fall of his deep breathing synchronized with her own and wrapped her in another layer of security.
Voice sleep raspy, he said, “How’s the wing?”
“Feeling a bit better.” She resisted the urge to give it a quick trial.
“Hmm.” His arm tightened around her waist. “Care to explain why you didn’t tell me about your injured wing.”
And she gave him the honest answer. “No.”
His thighs bracketed her legs and he shifted slightly, careful not to jar her wing. “Let’s try a different question.”
“Must you?”
“Yup.” It was darker in the cave now, and she could barely make out the sharp play of muscle along his forearms. “Why didn’t you tell me about your injured wing?”
“I didn’t want to slow you down.” Truth.
“And?”
Damn, shit, and bugger. “I didn’t want you to feel bad about my wing getting hurt.”
“Silly angel,” he murmured. “Go back to sleep. Ramiel and I share opposite sides of the same power, so my healing should help. Did it?”
Her wing did seem to be feeling a lot better than it would without healing. “Yes.”
“Give me the full answer.”
Damn him for always going that extra mile. “But not as well as if Ramiel had healed it.”
“Well.” He chuckled. “That’s a blow to the ego, but I’ll take that it worked a bit.” He pressed her head back against him. “Now go back to sleep and we’ll talk about this not telling me business in the morning.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Tough shit. Now, sleep.”
“You’re very bossy.” Wrath’s heat wrapped around her, and drowsiness crept through her limbs. “And far too comfortable with using my unfortunate ability to always tell the truth.”
“Uh-huh.” He stroked her spine with one plate-size hand. “Sleep, angel.”
Haziel pressed her forehead into the crook of his neck and did as she was told.
* * *
