Kai’s sitting on a bench, jacket off. And now that I see his wounds up close…
“Jesus,” I breathe. “What happened, Kai?”
“You really wanna know?” Kai looks over his shoulder. Then frowns. “Scratch that. You don’t.”
“No,” I protest. “I do. I?—”
“I’m telling you, you don’t,” Kai says shortly. Not unkindly, though. “Just patch me up.”
I swallow, nod, and unscrew the top of the salve. “This might…sting a little,” I say. “Emphasis on might. I actually have no idea.”
Kai snorts a soft laugh, and it’s at that moment that I realize exactly what I’ve offered to do.
No. It’s fine. I can touch Kai. That’s not weird. It’d be weirder not to. It’s the right thing to do when someone’s hurt.
…I would never forgive myself.
I scoop a small lump of the substance out on my index finger. Itdoes, as Morgan promised, smell like the mouth of hell, but I guess that’s what makes it work.
“Jesus.” Kai pulls a face. “What’s in there?”
“Secret herbs and spices,” I deadpan, rolling my finger and thumb together. It’s surprisingly smooth, at least. “I have no idea. But it’s supposed to work, so…” I take a step closer. “Hold still, I guess.”
Slowly, gingerly, I put my fingers to his spine, where the skin is so red it’s almost purple. Kai flinches, at first, but then, like he’s trained himself, steels his muscles.
“Sorry!” I cry. “Sorry, sorry, I?—”
“You’re good,” he says through his teeth. “You’re fine.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur again, spreading the salve with as light a touch as I possibly can. His skin is warm—hot, really—under my fingertips. “Does that help, at least?”
Kai nods. “Yeah. It—ah!” He winces, but shakes his head. “It’s a good hurt. I think.” Then he adds in a mutter “fucking Morgan better not be poisoning me.”
“She’s not,” I affirm, and apply another smear, this one a few inches below. Already, the first bruise looks better, feels less inflamed to the touch as I glide my fingers below it. I
When I reach the bottom of his back, I realize Kai’s eyes are closed.
“All done,” I say softly. “I think.”
He blinks. Looks a little dazed. “Thanks.” Tentatively, he sits up straighter, as if waiting for a shock of pain that doesn’t seem to come, and his face relaxes. “Damn. The witch was right.” Then he frowns. “Too bad it smells like Satan’s asshole.”
“Yeah,” I say, staring distastefully down at my hand. “A necessary evil, I guess.”
I look around for a sink, but before I do, Kai’s swinging his legs around the bench so he’s facing me.
“Sorry. Here.” He bends over, picks up his jacket from the ground, and gestures at me.
Confused, I frown—but Kai just sighs and reaches for my wrist. Pulls my hand towards him and gently wipes it off with his fencing jacket.
“You shouldn’t have to go around smelling like death all day, at least,” he says.
“Ha. Thanks.” My heart is suddenly, painfully pounding. Touching him before was one thing. Touching him like this is… “Your jacket?” I ask—for some reason. It’s all I can think to say.
Kai lifts a shoulder. “Laundry. It exists.”
He’s still holding onto my wrist. Undoubtedly feeling my pulse race, every little beat of my heart.
“You feel better, though,” I say.Beat. Beat.
