“Don’t!” I grab his wrist, the water soaking my shirt.
“Really, Georgia.” He reaches behind him and turns off the water. “It will heal.”
“It’s where he took your liver, isn’t it?” I step back and grab a towel from the counter for him. The freakout about bacteria and wound care that I would normally have in this situation slowly fades. Valen won’t die. He won’t even get sick.
“Yes.” He wraps the towel around his waist. “It will heal. Just takes time for something like that.”
“You’re in pain.” I look up at him, his wet hair dripping, one of his battered eyes still bloodshot.
“Yes.” He shrugs and walks slowly past me to his bed.
Sitting heavily, he yanks the towel from his waist and rubs it roughly across his hair before tossing it on the floor.
“I’ll have to sleep for a while, but you’ll be safe. I’ll wake if anyone?—”
“Stop worrying aboutme.” I yank the blankets down, then press my hand to his chest. “Lie down.”
“Always so forward.” He smirks but lies back as I settle the blanket over him.
When I try to pull my hand away, he holds it in place. His heart thumps steadily beneath my palm, his heavy-lidded gaze holding mine.
“I need you close.” He strokes my wrist with his thumb.
“I am.” My voice goes slightly breathless.
“I need you in my bed.”
“You need to rest.”
“I will as long as you’re close,kedves verem.”
“You wrote that in your notes, in the book with the trees. You wrote that about us?” I’m on the precipice, about to fall into a deep, deep well if I keep asking questions. I can feel it, the terrified breath before the plunge.
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me with his ocean blue eyes.
“Valen, what does that mean exactly?”
“Sleep here with me, and I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t make deals. Not anymore.” I try to pull my hand away, but he doesn’t let go.
“Then do it as a mercy. You’re a healer. Your presence will help me recover.”
I sit down beside him and give him a wary look. “That’s not how any of this works.”
“But it is.” He pats the bed beside him. “Here. Just stay here with me, that’s all.”
I want to. A big part of me wants to curl up beside him and sleep some of the terrors of the past few months away. Butanother part of me yells that Valen is one those terrors, that I should get as far away from him as possible.
“Don’t be afraid,kedves verem. Your blood trusts mine. Just listen to it.” His eyes close. “Listen to the song in our veins. Your blood heard it when your mind couldn’t. Your heart knew. You knew me. My soul. You knew …” His grip on my wrist loosens, his body going lax. He’s out in only moments, his body finally giving in, forcing him to rest. The sharp angles of his face are softer now, younger. The slant of his dark brows less severe, the line of his jaw stark but not haughty. He’s beautiful. A slumbering reaper. I wonder if any of the multitudes he’s killed haunt his dreams.
I gently pull the blanket down and check the wound on his side. It’s still open, the muscle layer only now knitting back together. There’s no more blood, as if his organs have absorbed what remained of it. Healthy tissue, all of it healing.
He sleeps deeply, his breathing even.
Glancing at the door, I rise and ease toward it.
He groans.
