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I tangled my fingers in his hair and shifted so that he could more easily stroke my neck with his silky tongue, as limpid as a lizard on a rock in the sun. Come to think of it, kissing was hardly important if there was licking. What was so great about kissing, anyway? I’d never personally done it much, but what I’d done hadn’t been noteworthy, nothing like being licked by the Scholar.
Time went in a pleasant way until the Scholar picked me up and put me on a cold table without the down comforter, leaving me struggling to get back into the comfortable embrace. He put a hand on my forehead, holding me down while he gazed at me, his eyes the lightest, happiest blue I’d ever seen.
“My dear, Miss Morell, rest well. The surgeon is here and before you know it, you’ll wake up to a new day.”
I didn’t want a new day, not when I’d been so comfortable and happy, and now I was cold and lonely with pain creeping up around the edges, waiting to swallow me.
After a sharp pain in my arm beneath my torn shoulder, I didn’t feel anything at all.
I woke up to Anna quarrelling with someone about plants. I pushed the fog away and sat up, finding myself in a bed surrounded by the strangest assortment of plants I’d ever seen.
I frowned at the one closest to my face. “Is that a Venus Flytrap?”
“You’re awake!” Anna pushed through the plants to sit down on the edge of the large, decidedly masculine bed and take my hands. “What do you want to do for the pain? I think that more holistic measures that treat your mind and body will be better for you in the long run, but the sorcerer wants cold hard drugs and magic that will boost your healing, but end up draining the rest of your body for at least a few months as it tries to regenerate the stolen energy that he directed into healing your shoulder.”
“That’s not what I said,” the man corrected, his pale blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones rather pleasant to look at. I’d gotten the impression that sorcerers were all gaunt and colorless, but this one was pretty. “I would subscribe mundane drugs to help her with the transition until her body has fully regenerated and accepted the magical growths that I put into her. There’s no sorcery in common morphine.”
Anna turned towards him, bristling. “And now you want to turn my friend into a drug addict? You keep your sorceries away from her!”
His eye twitched, like he’d been trying to be reasonable and calm for a long time while she was her unencumbered hippy healer self. “The Scholar licked her wounds for hours. If she’s going to be addicted to anything, it’ll be that.” He leaned over to check my pulse, but the moment he touched me, Pansy came out of nowhere, barking and knocking over plants as he pawed his way up onto the very large, very masculine bed. What made a bed masculine? The smell of sandalwood, the sturdiness of the four pillars, the solidness of the mattress, or the fact that everything was black? All of it combined with the scent of the Scholar, which told me that I had been sleeping in his bed, and he had a weird taste in plants before Pansy was on my stomach, licked my face, getting brimstone slobber on my lips, before settling down next to me and putting his head on my leg. He growled at the surgeon when he tried to check my pulse again, then licked my wrist as if that settled that.
“What are you doing?” I asked him, which took a lot of effort that he rewarded by licking my hand. I smiled and rubbed his head, the silky spots on his ears, and his tongue started lolling and tail wagging. He was such a goofball.
“I must insist that you allow me to check your healing. The Scholar was very specific about what he required from me, and I will not have a dissatisfied client.”
Anna scowled at him. “It’s not the client you should be worried about, but the patient, the human who has to live with whatever you do to her, not the person who throws money at you. You’re a soulless, heartless?—”
I squeezed her hand because she was going too far. “Anna, it’s all right if he checks my pulse. He’s already done the surgery; what harm is there in him checking how well it worked? I don’t need pain medication, though,” I said to him, trying for a smile even though my shoulder was throbbing terribly. I’d dealt with far worse injuries, with far less care. I gripped Pansy’s collar so he couldn’t bite while he carefully checked my vitals, listening to my heart and lungs, then examining the bare flesh of my shoulder and its smooth skin. There wasn’t so much as a scar to show the wound, but the whole area was two shades paler than the rest of me.
He smiled at me, a polite smile that didn’t go with his natural sneer. “You are well on your way to recovery. Exercise caution as you return to daily activity, such as picking things up and walking your dog.”
“What about playing the guitar? I’m a musician, sort of.” I guess I was a bad musician, but I was definitely a musician since I paid for my apartment with music. Bad music.
He frowned as he considered before his face relaxed and he offered me another polite smile. “If you exercise caution, take breaks every few minutes, and stop once you feel any pain, it should be fine.”
Anna snorted. “She doesn’t know how to stop because of something like pain. She’s obsessive, which you’d know if you had ever studied personality and healing, but no, because all you need are chemicals and harsh spells to save the world one broke client at a time.”
Anna was usually almost too sweet, so she must really have something against sorcerers to go off on this guy like that.
“If you suffer any sudden sharp pain, discoloration, bruising, or bleeding, be sure to call me at once.” He handed me a card, bowed and then left the dark room, closing the door behind him.
Pansy grunted and buried his head under my armpit, the one that hadn’t had surgery. I patted his back and stared at the ceiling with its sculpted medallion and arched coves.
“Tell me honestly, how bad does it hurt?” Anna asked, frowning in concern.
I took a deep breath and then sat up, flexing my arm and straightening it while I studied the pain, the ache of muscles ripped apart then fused back together, and the bones aching where they were working to produce more blood to replace what I’d lost. Everything felt slightly off, like the veins and nerves weren’t quite where they were supposed to be.
“It’s fine. There’s no reason to lie around when I have things to…” I threw the blankets back and tried to stand up, then fell back onto the bed in a whirl of black and white, losing consciousness for a moment before I blinked Anna back into focus above my head.
She patted my cheek. “Poor Libby. Sleep it off, natural healthy sleep, after I rub this ointment into your injury. Don’t tell him I said this, but the evil sorcerer did really neat work. I’ve seen a few true hacksaw demons, and this guy was meticulous, precise, and extremely eager to please. I wonder what your scholar has on him.”
I exhaled a frustrated sigh. “If he’s so good, why can’t I get up?”
“You’re recovering. Magic can only go so far, I mean, I suppose we could pour a recuperative potion down your throat, like King Crown sells to the unwary, but then you’d come down harder in a few days, recovery would be three times as long, and the surgery might come undone, leaving you with a real mess. Just be glad that you aren’t going to be laid up for a month, which is what it would take for mundane healing of an injury that impressive. He barely missed your lungs, Lib. I’m kind of irritated with your boyfriend, to be honest, putting you where any vampire could slash you to pieces.” She tutted and shook her head and then started rubbing the ointment of evil suffering on my shoulder and neck. It hurt so much.
I whimpered, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
She laughed cheerfully, or evilly. “No? Then I should date him. It hurts, doesn’t it? That’s because it’s bringing all your nerves to life. You’ll thank me later.”
