“This feels familiar.” I swipe my finger through the enchanted cream, memories of another jar of salve, another set of injuries filling my mind.
The Hunter smirks. “I suppose it does.”
I apply the cream to a cut on his cheek, and my gaze drops to his lips. His mouth is so close, it wouldn’t take much at all for me to shift forward and brush my lips against his. We could resume where we’d left off last time, and...
Focus, Wren.
Suns, what is wrong with me? Gabriel is injured. This isn’t the time to think about kissing him, even if I desperately want to, more than anything.
I pull back, dabbing cream against another cut. “You keep getting injured, Gabriel,” I murmur, focusing on my work.
He inhales sharply, eyes widening a fraction. “And you keep saving me.”
It feels like there’s something more behind his words, something I’m not ready to dissect.
“That’s true.” I move to his neck, a frown tugging on my lips as I assess the damage. He’s covered in so many cuts; he looks like he got into a fight with a dozen vicious cats and lost. “It’s a good thing I like helping you.”
“Yes, it is,” he says huskily.
I work slowly, painstakingly applying blessed salve to every cut I can find. The skin that I can see is covered in scars, a map of his training and time as a Hunter.
When I’ve addressed all of Gabriel’s visible injuries, I sit back on my heels.
“That’s better.” At least now he won’t die of an infection in the next few days.
My gaze lingers on the scruff on the Hunter’s jaw, and I don’t immediately notice when he shifts.
“Could you pass me a tunic, Wren?” he asks, his gruff voice pulling me from my thoughts.
I glance at the pile of clothes, then back at him. “Sure, but do you need help taking the old one off?”
It won’t be an easy task with his injured arm.
Gabriel tenses, his jaw tight, and there’s something about his behavior that has me canting my head, studying him. Especially when he says, “No, it’s fine.”
My brows furrow, because his definition offineis very different from mine. “Are you sure?”
He shifts, planting his back more firmly against the wall. “The tunic, if you don’t mind?”
Gabriel’s odd behavior has me pausing. This could just be exhaustion, but it feels like he’s hiding something. I have no idea what it could be, and that more than anything is a reminder that the Hunter and I may be fated, but we don’t really know each other.
That’s an unwelcome thought. Feeling like a cold bucket of water has been dumped on my head, I rise and make my way to the dresser, sifting through the pile to find the requested garment for Gabriel.
A muffled curse comes from behind me, followed by a pained grunt. When I turn around, Gabriel’s shirt is off, and sweat is shining on his brow. He’s cradling his injured arm against his chest, clearly hurting.
I hiss his name, hurrying back to his side. “You should’ve let me help,” I chide. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
He grimaces, pressing his shoulders against the stone. “I got it off, Wren. It’s fine.”
“I don’t think that word means what you think it does.”
He chuckles, the sound pained. “Oh?”
“You’re hurting.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” His tone makes it clear he doesn’t want to talk about this any more.
I study him for a long moment before sighing. Clearly, something’s going on, and I’m not sure what it is. There’s a look of stubbornness on Gabriel’s face, and I know I won’t be getting any more answers out of him tonight. Making a mental note to address this later, I drop the topic for now and help Gabriel into his tunic. It’s tricky, made more difficult by his injury and the way he’s angled against the wall, but we get it on.
