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Because no matter what the hell River had gone through, his gut said that Nora's experience had been far, far worse.
One day he'd ask if she wanted him to mostly erase the permanent reminders. Great gains had been made with fae witch magic and techniques when it came to removing scars—or at least partially—and he wanted to offer her that service.
In time.For the moment, healing her bruise was going to be about all he could accomplish.
Closing his eyes, he gathered the magic flowing throughout his body into the center of his chest. Within seconds, he had enough to direct it out of his hand and into her flesh. He imagined the muscles reknitting, flushing out the blood from the bruise at the same time, and then added a little euphoria to the mix, that would trigger in her brain.
He heard her gasp but worked another few beats until he sensed her blood, bone, and muscle had returned to a healthy state.
He opened his eyes but didn't release her arm. As soon as River met Nora's wide-eyed gaze, she blurted, "What did you do?"
He unconsciously stroked her arm. "Healed you. Can't you tell?"
She tugged and he reluctantly released her. Holding her arm against her chest, she replied, "But it's never felt like that before. It was almost pleasurable."
It was on the tip of his tongue to say healers had quite the knack for bringing pleasure, what with their abilities to manipulate the body. But he didn't want to send Nora running, so instead he answered truthfully. "There is usually a divide between fae witch healers—either to get it done as quickly as possible, or to ensure it's done with the least amount of pain possible. My mentor was on the side of the latter. Some dismiss adding the little extra bit at the end, the good feeling, as unnecessary and coddling. I, however, like making someone feel better. It means they're more likely to hire my services again, you know?"
Nora glanced at her forearm and touched where he'd had his fingers on her.
Had she liked it? For some reason, he was curious. He usually never thought about such things with patients. But as fucked up as it was, Nora was different for some reason. He wished he knew why.
Yeah, she was fucking beautiful with her dark hair, mismatched eyes, and curvy hips he'd love to hold onto as he thrust from behind. But he'd had plenty of good-looking patients in the past and never had crossed the line of professionalism his mentor had drilled into him:Don't fuck the patients. Ever.Or word will spread and you'll either get people lining up for sex, or fleeing for someone they don't think is a goddamn predator.
What he wouldn't give to see Dave again and hear one of his cursed-filled lectures.
But River's attention zeroed in on Nora as she stroked her own skin. He had a feeling his touch had meant something to her.
As if realizing she'd been caught, Nora quickly tugged her sleeve down and redid the button. "Thank you. It feels better. But now it's your turn."
She picked up a jar, opened it, and a mixture of herb scents drifted toward him. River didn't have the knack of herbal medicine like some healers, but he could pick out a few of the smells—chamomile and beeswax. "This will not only heal, but also prevent scars. Although the fae witch doctor said it wouldn't replace whatever drawings you have on your chest."
River glanced down. Only a few of his tattoos peeked around the bandages. "I'll just have to find someone to help me fix them at some point."
And finish a few he hadn't yet completed. Even if it was the past, some fae witches had magic that could place ink into the skin. He'd just have to find one eventually, if he stayed here.
"Why do you have them? I thought only pirates and those from some of the countries in the Far East had images permanently drawn onto the skin like that."
Before he could think it better not to answer, he replied, "Each tattoo represents a piece of myself I've found over the years. I got my first one at nineteen, and then added more and more over the last six years."
"You're only twenty-five?"
At the surprise in her voice, River looked back at Nora. "Yep, twenty-five. Given how you have a fifty-six-year-old son, I'm going to say you're older than me."
"A little."
He chuckled, and instantly wished he hadn't. Damn lingering injuries.
Wanting to get healthy faster, he nodded toward the jar. "Let's get the bandages changed and then I'm going to warn you—I'll pass out soon after."
She searched his gaze. "Because you wasted energy healing me."
"It wasn't a waste, but yeah, it made me a little tired. It's more that I had my ass beaten for months before that. I think it's the bigger culprit." She opened her mouth but he trekked on before she could say anything. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet, Nora." And not just because he couldn't even remember most of it. At least not until his brain unleashed the locked memories. "For now, I'm keeping all that shit locked up tight until I'm ready."
She nodded. "I understand that."
As they shared a long look, River noticed more than her mismatched eyes or dark hair. She had a full bottom lip, one she often smashed down with one of her fangs over top, like now.
She also had a long, graceful neck that was made for licking, and sucking, and biting.
