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The slash over his knee was gone with a couple of strokes of my tongue and another glass of water. I left his hands for last, taking care of his bleeding knuckles and cut fingers.
When I finished, I brushed tendrils of my hair from my heated face and polished off half of the pitcher of water on the nightstand. The room was quiet. Even the noises of the nurses and patients in the corridor sounded muffled. How long did it take me to finish? Hours? Exhaustion shuddered through me, but I didn’t want to sleep now. So, I perused the staffroom for a change of clothes and the bathroom to wash away the dirt and sweat of the day and to wake up. There was only one thing missing. One thing I needed. I rushed upstairs.
My room was empty, Peggy’s bed not even crumpled, when I barged inside. I pulled the drawer of my nightstand open and took out the tiger pendant. It was mine for as long as I wanted it, Roy had said. After I locked it around my neck, I ran back to the hospital wing. I must have left Roy’s side for no longer than fifteen minutes, but anxiety was gnawing at me as I headed to his room.
“Miss Easterwood?” Dr Stone called from a room when I was running along the corridor.
“Yes?” I shifted my weight impatiently.
“How’s Roy?”
“I think the healing worked. He’s warm again, and the skin is sealed.”
He nodded, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll take a look at him as soon as possible.”
I barely waved at him in my haste to return to Roy’s bed. Running my hand over his body, I checked for signs that the bleeding was starting again, or for an infection to set in.
“Roy.” I took his face. No need to search for his pulse. His heartbeat pounded inside me as well. Perhaps because our connection had strengthened with the healing. Or maybe it was my half-emerged beast that was sharpening my hearing.
But I wished I could see his eyes, bright and vivid. “Roy.” I caressed his dark hair, tangling my fingers through the silky strands.
His skin was warm now, his breathing regular, and his pulse was steady. I couldn’t resist and kissed his lips softly. As I stroked his cheek, his eyes fluttered open, clouded with pain and fatigue, but so very bright. Amber fire burned in their depths.
Not sure what to say, I kept running my fingers through his silky hair and scattering kisses over his mouth and cheeks. His Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he swallowed hard. He let me kiss his lips chastely, sucking in a deep breath.
He cupped my cheek and brushed away a tear I hadn’t been aware of shedding. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, his voice all raspy. “Don’t worry about me.”
A sob erupted from me. How could he say that? “I was worried sick about you. So scared.”
When his shaking arms wrapped around me, I rested my head on his shoulder and snuggled closer to his heat. He caressed the top of my head and let me sob over his chest until exhaustion dragged me into darkness.
Moonlight was bathing the room with a silver sheen when next I opened my eyes. Roy’s arms were still around my shoulders and waist, caging me in warmth and safety when it should be me protecting him. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Even in the dim light, his skin had lost its mortal pallor and returned to a healthy colour.
Was that enough? Should I heal him again?
I put a hand on his chest. The skin was warm and smooth. No bumps or ragged flesh to indicate that he’d been injured, and his heartbeat pounded in a steady rhythm.
“Thank goodness.” I put my head on his chest, enjoying the feeling of the strong kick of his heart.
“I’m fine.” Roy’s voice rumbled in his chest as he stroked the top of my head. “Thanks to you.”
I pulled away enough to stare at his face. “Are you hurting somewhere? Should I heal you again? Do you feel queasy?”
A weak smile stretched his lips. “As much as I love feeling your lips on my skin, I’m fine. I don’t have any other injuries.”
“You’ve lost so much blood. Every inch of you was bleeding or cut or bruised.” Our gazes locked when I tilted my head up. “It was the scariest sight I’ve ever seen. I was terrified I’d fail and cause you to die.”
He remained silent, his fingers lacing through my hair. Warmth radiated from his amber eyes.
“What happened to you? Why were you at the mill?” I asked, relaxing a little as he touched me.
“As a condottiero, I’m granted access to a part of the mill. Not where the actual production of the beasts happens, but in the offices on the lower part of the building.” He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand stilling in my hair. “My classified documents are kept there. It’s the safest place in Raven Park, or so I thought.” He paused, licking his dry lips.
“Wait.” I poured him a glass of water and watched as he drank it greedily, his throat working hard.
Wrong moment, and wrong place, but the lonely journey of a drop travelling from his chin down to his muscled chest was jolly fascinating. After the scare of seeing him nearly dead, watching him breathing and alive was intoxicating. And admittedly, my shameful lust of last night was still there, ready to pounce the moment I lowered my guard.
He slouched on the bed before continuing. “After the break-in into my office, I started to keep all my documents in a locked cabinet at the mill. It’s heavily guarded night and day. Even Allen needs clearance before entering. A fortress.” He chuckled. “It turned out I was wrong.”
