Covering those muscles is a gods-damned pity.
Now that he’s changed, the only thing left to take care of is his arm. I reach out to touch it, and he sucks in a sharp breath, flinching as if I stabbed him with a hot poker.
“Fucking suns, Gabe,” I chastise, moving closer so I can get a better look at the limb in question. “You should’ve told me your arm was this bad while I was taking care of your cuts.”
Stubborn, stupid man. Why would he hide how bad it felt? I would’ve dealt with this first. Was this why he didn’t want my help to take off his tunic?
“What can I say, Birdie?” He smirks, but even that can’t hide his pained wince. “I like having your hands on me.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I turn away, busying myself with getting a spare tunic from our bags before examining his arm. It looks sprained, not broken. Fashioning the shirt into a sling, I help the Hunter into it before assessing him again.
“Are there any other injuries you’ve been hiding?”
He shifts back, resting his head on the wall. “Nothing critical. I’ll be fine.”
There’s that word again. “Gabriel, if you’re hurt anywhere else?—”
“I’ll be fine, Wren. Go ahead, take some time for yourself. I’m sure you want to get out of those clothes.”
He’s not wrong. It feels like a layer of grime is covering me from head to toe, and washing up sounds like a luxury. But I’m not in the habit of doing a job halfway.
“It can wait. If there’s anything else you need?—”
“There isn’t.” His lips twitch into a small smile. “Now, go.”
Gabriel’s tone leaves no room for discussion, and after another moment, I grab my things and hurry into the bathing room. I take off my clothes and scrub myself from head to toe as quickly as possible before changing into a fresh dress. Gods, it feels good to be clean.
When I return, Gabriel is in the same place. He’s changed into a clean pair of pants and is leaning forward, resting his good arm across his knees.
“So.” He looks at the bed, then back to me. “We should talk about the sleeping arrangements.”
“I suppose we should.” I wet my lips. I’d been thinking about it when I got changed.
“I’ll take the floor,” he starts.
At the same time, I say, “You can’t sleep on the floor again. This isn’t like the last time.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, the air heavy, before he lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head.
“I assure you, I can. It’s rather simple. I’ll lie down and fall asleep.”
“No. It’s inhumane.” Gabriel is injured, but even if he weren’t, it would be cruel to ask him to give up the bed again. Once was enough.
“Birdie,” he coos, and my stomach swoops. “Are you worried about me?”
“Absolutely not.” I am.
The corners of his too-handsome mouth twitch upwards, silently calling out my lie. Though I am loathe to admit it, the Hunter’s well-being is worrying me nearly as much as my own.
He rubs the corner of his lips with his thumb. “You like me.”
“No.” My voice sounds weak, even to my own ears.
“Yes, you do.” Damn his twinkling green eyes that follow me as I carve a trail across the floor.
“I don’t.” I gesture to his arm and the now-empty jar of salve sitting by his feet. “I don’t want to see all my hard work wasted. I didn’t take care of your wounds just for you to turn around and open them back up by sleeping on the incredibly hard floor.”
That’s a perfectly logical argument. Sleep is good for the body, and he’ll rest more easily in the bed. My insistencedefinitely has nothing to do with the way my core is heating at the thought of sleeping next to the Hunter.
