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“One minute,” Glenna said. “Give me one minute. I want to help you; you need to believe that. Believe me. Look at me, into my eyes. Yes, that’s right.”
Now it came. Heat and release, heat and release. “There, that’s better. A little better. Yes?”
She’d taken it, he realized. Some of the burn, just for an instant, into herself. He wouldn’t forget it. “Some. Yes, some. Thanks.”
She applied more cloth, turned back to her case. “I’ll just clean the cuts and treat the bruises, then give you something to help you rest.”
“I’m not looking for rest.”
She shifted back, eased down on the bed intending to clean the cuts on his face. Puzzled, she laid her fingers on his cheek, turned his head. “I thought these were worse.”
“They were. I heal quickly from most things.”
“Good for you. How’s the vision?”
He turned those hot blue eyes on her. “I see you well enough, Red.”
“Could have a concussion. Can you get concussions? I imagine so,” she said before he could answer. “Are you burned anywhere else?” She started to lower the sheet, then flicked him a wicked glance. “Is it true what they say about vampires?”
It made him laugh, then hiss as the pain rippled back. “A myth. We’re hung just as we were before the change. You’re welcome to look for yourself, but I’m not hurt in that area. It caught me full on the chest.”
“We’ll preserve your modesty—and my illusions.” When she took his hand the amusement faded from his face. “I thought we’d killed you. So did he. Now he’s suffering.”
“Oh, he’s suffering, is he? Maybe he’d like to switch places with me.”
“You know he would. However you feel or don’t about him, he loves you. He can’t turn that off, and he hasn’t had all the time that you’ve had to step back from brotherhood.”
“We stopped being brothers the night I died.”
“No, you didn’t. And you’re deluding yourself if you believe that.” She pushed off the bed. “You’re as comfortable as I can make you. I’ll come back in an hour and work on you some more.”
She gathered her things. Moira slipped out of the room ahead of her, and waited. “What did that to him?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“You need to be. It’s a powerful weapon against his kind. We could use it.”
“We weren’t controlling it. I don’t know that we can.”
“If you could,” Moira insisted.
Glenna opened the door to her room, carried her case inside. She wasn’t ready to go back to the tower. “It controlled us, as far as I can tell. It was huge and powerful. Too powerful for either of us to handle. Even together—and we were linked as closely as I’ve been with anyone—we couldn’t harness it. It was like being inside the sun.”
“The sun’s a weapon.”
“If you don’t know how to use a sword, you’re just as likely to cut off your own hand as someone else’s.”
“So you learn.”
Glenna lowered to the bed, then held out a hand. “I’m shaky,” she said, watching it tremble. “There are places inside my body I didn’t know I had shaking like my hand is.”
“And I’m badgering you. I’m sorry. You seemed so steady, so calm when you were treating the vampyre.”
“He has a name. Cian. Start using it.” Moira’s head snapped back as if she’d been slapped, and her eyes widened at the whip in Glenna’s tone. “I’m sorry about your mother. Sick and sorry, but he didn’t kill her. If she’d been murdered by a blond man with blue eyes, would you go around hating all men with blond hair and blue eyes?”
“It’s not the same, not nearly the same.”
“Close enough, especially in our situation.”
