To stop him, Syla rested her hand on his bare forearm. Warmth radiated from his ropy muscles. His eyebrows drifted upward.
“Iama healer,” she said. “Will you let me tend your wounds?”
“I don’t know. Would you be tending themmagically?” His eyelids drooped, and he watched her through his lashes.
He probably didn’t mean the expression to be sexy, but sitting on a bed this close to him, with his bare chest scant inches away, made Syla think of things other than healing. But he’d been the one to warn Wreylith about the potential danger of having one’s wounds tended magically, of how one might feel bound to the healer afterward, perhaps compelled to do what she wished. Perhaps even… speak truths that one didn’t want to speak.
Did Vorik have truths that differed from what he’d told her? After all the times he’d fought to protect her, she was more inclined to believe he was a member of that faction and wanted her to live, but she wouldn’t mind a way to compel him to honesty with her. Just in case.
“That would be ideal,” she said, aware of Vorik watching herintently. “Especially since…” She looked toward the barred window. If she warned him about the enforcers, he might try to escape instead of letting her heal him. But she didn’t want him to be captured and tortured. Even if she wanted the truth from him. That wasn’t the way. “I’ve learned that the leaders of the temple sent for the enforcers after we arrived. The guard doesn’t think they’ll arrive until tomorrow, but it’s hard to know for certain.”
“I suppose your kingdom enforcers would know not to put me in a cell with a window,” Vorik said dryly, “and they would lock me in a shackle that I don’t have the strength to break.”
“I’m sure you can’t break that one.”
“No?” Vorik bent and rotated the shackle, showing a gap where the locking mechanism had been pulled apart. After it had broken—afterhe’dbroken it?—he’d hooked it back together enough that someone walking in wouldn’t notice that he was loose.
She stared at it. “How did you…?”
Was it possible that Agrevlari was channeling power into Vorik from a distance?
“Magic.” He smiled, but he also lifted an arm and flexed his biceps.
She swallowed, her gaze drawn to the interplay of his muscles in the lantern light. What would it be like to have sex with someone so lithe and powerful?
Over the years, she hadn’t been in many relationships, in part because of the conflicts of interest involved in meeting men through healing them, and in part because… not that many appealing candidates had stepped forward, candidates interested inherrather than her status or the access she offered to the royal family. None of the ones shehadspent time with had possessed a physique like Vorik.
None, she told herself firmly, were asdangerousas Vorik. Even if he wasloyal to that faction instead of his belligerent leaders, shecouldn’t have anything to do with him. It would be foolish, if not a betrayal. The memory of her dead kin entered her mind again.
Oblivious to her thoughts, Vorik shifted his gaze to the window, his smile lingering. It looked out upon the roof of the keep and the tower on the other side of the temple, not to the sea or across the countryside, so it wasn’t theviewthat prompted his smile.
On a hunch, Syla left his bed and walked to the bars, eyeing them instead of the opposite tower or the road she could see to one side, other than to note that no travelers were approaching in the rain. The bars appeared sturdy and in place, but a few crumbles of stone lay at the base of one of them. When she looked up, she spotted a deep gouge that extended from the top of the bar to the edge of the sill. She gripped the length of iron and found it loose. She could have easily pushed it the rest of the way out and opened the gap enough for a lean man to squeeze through. Of course, once out, such a man would then have to climb down the sheer stone wall of the tower, across the roof of the keep, and jump to the ground. Of all the feats she’d seen Vorik perform, that one wouldn’t rank near the top.
She sensed him approach, stopping close enough behind her that she imagined she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Shecouldfeel his power in the air about him and imagined him breaking iron with his hands. That shackle lay open on the floor by the bed. Bonded riders apparently got more magic from their dragons than she’d realized.
“I have a good constitution,” Vorik said softly, looking out the window over her shoulder, though she also sensed him watching the side of her face, “but I’m not immune to infections and complications from injuries. I wouldn’t mind having a trained healer treat me.”
He brushed his fingers down the back of her head, and a heated tingle ran through her.
Syla swallowed, wondering if sending Flaron away had been a bad idea. But she didn’t try to step away from Vorik. “That’s why I came.”
“Is it? You weren’t simply drawn by my allure? I was trying to send it out through this compound so that you would feel it and come see me.” His fingers shifted to the side of her neck, pushing her hair aside and gently stroking her skin, as he’d done when they’d ridden together on his dragon. Right before he’d kissed her there, then nibbled on her ear, stirring within her the most amazing sensations.
“I… it’s my duty to heal wounded people,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Will you chat with me while you sew me up? I’ve been lonely.”
“I’ll need to concentrate. You’re a mess.” She turned toward him and caught him eyeing her neck, his lips parted.
Hadhe been about to kiss her? And if he had, would she have stopped him?
Nervous and flustered, Syla licked her lips. It didn’t miss her notice that, since Vorik stood so close, she was essentially trapped against the wall. Trapped by a man strong enough to break shackles and rip iron bars from stone, despite his many wounds.
“I am a mess,” Vorik agreed, “but will you simply use mundane methods on me? I do not give you permission to use your magic.”
“It’ll take much longer for the wounds to heal, and the chance of infection will be higher, but that’s your choice.”
His eyebrows rose, as if he’d expected her to be unwilling to give her agreement.
