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When he felt his thumb swipe across his tender lips, their gazes clashed for an elongated moment before Azriel looked away to reach for the liniment.
“Like this,” Azriel instructed, applying the medicine generously to the wounded area before his gaze slipped down his neck to his chest. Galen shivered, either from his intense gaze or the soothing salve tingling against his skin.
Azriel stepped behind Wren, allowing him room to continue the ministrations, possibly sensing Galen’s confusing response to him—or feeling confused himself. He didn’t understand his reaction to Azriel other than he was easy on the eyes.
Galen’s stomach tightened painfully once he finally released the breath he’d been holding, and he groaned.
“He may have a broken rib or two,” Azriel said, nostrils flaring as he became increasingly flustered and upset the more Galen’s breadth of injuries was revealed.
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” As Wren’s fingertips spread the salve from his belly button to the most bruised areas of his lower belly, Galen suddenly felt shy and nearly turned away from the close scrutiny.
But only Azriel and the twins remained by his side to minister to him, while the others appeared nonplussed. In fact, when he next looked beyond the twins, many seemed to have grown bored of watching and were busy doing other things, such as reading or organizing their belongings. Even Bellamy had wandered off to the other side of the room to speak to another lad, who was apparently telling some animated story because his arms were moving as fast as his mouth.
“Will you need to work…on the back of him?” Azriel asked, and though pink dotted his cheeks again, he also tightened his jaw, likely in pity.
Sparrow frowned. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“It’s all right.” The soothing voice belonged to Wren. “We won’t hurt you.”
“There’s nothing to be shy about.” This from Sparrow. “We’ve all seen enough of each other.”
Azriel looked away, that rosiness now trailing down his neck.
Again, Galen wanted to ask about their living arrangement, but he was being encouraged to turn over by sturdy hands, and the movement made him groan in pain.
He clenched his jaw as Wren’s hand trailed down the knobs of his spine, which were tender to the touch. When Wren’s fingers landed on his buttocks, he wanted to recoil, if only not to be reminded how rough the man had been with him. Then Wren was spreading his crease open, and Galen heard the small gasp Azriel attempted to cover with a cough. Galen shut his eyes to avoid looking at any of them.
“You’ll need to apply it liberally,” Azriel said tightly. “And…inside.”
“Is that all right?” Wren asked. “It is only to help you.”
Galen held his breath and nodded, hoping he did not pass out from either the pain or mortification.
Thankfully, Wren made quick work of it, the cool liniment instantly soothing as his fingers circled his sore rim and slipped inside. Before his body could even respond to the intrusion, the hand was gone, supple linens covered him, and he was grateful for that.
When he turned on his side to get more comfortable, he was surprised to see Azriel had stepped farther away from the bed as if to allow him more privacy, which he appreciated. His stomach buzzed with warmth.
“You can rest now,” Azriel said in a comforting tone, his eyes softening. “Madam Langley will be in to see you in the morning.”
“And you?”
Why did I ask that?
“We will all see you, silly,” Sparrow said. “You are in our sleeping quarters.”
Wren chuckled and tucked his bed linens in tighter. “Sweet dreams.”
“Why… Why do you all sleep here?” Galen mumbled.
But his question seemed to fall on deaf ears as he drifted off into a deep slumber.
Chapter 3
Galen awoke in a foreign bed, momentarily confused by his surroundings, until he shifted and felt the twinge of achiness from the injuries he’d sustained…two evenings prior? With the aid of the medicine and the long hours of uninterrupted sleep, his body was healing, but he also felt as if he’d lost long swathes of time. He vaguely recalled periods of wakefulness to relieve his bladder, to sip warm broth from the spoon Azriel held to his lips, or more of the tea that now felt somehow magical in aiding his recovery. The last time the liniment had been administered was some hours ago, the twins hovering over him and Azriel softly directing them from a distance away.
They’d changed his undergarments and pulled a nightshirt over his head for warmth, and each time Azriel’s unusual eyes landed on him, he felt it to the marrow of his bones. And even more so when Azriel would flush and seemingly be at a loss for words. Not that Galen was much better with the uptick in his pulse and the holding of his breath until he thought he might pass out. It was almost as if Azriel could see inside him to the underpinnings of truth—that Galen was scared, and worried about returning to the cobblestone streets; that he wished he had a warm, welcoming place where he belonged. But he also knew his thoughts were muddled from pain, and if he didn’t get well and be on his way soon, his apprehension would only grow worse.
