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"So do you." He dragged a finger down my arm alongside a thin red line.
"I think soap and water will have gotten the majority of the dirt out, but just to be sure—" I bent down and tapped his legs telling him to swivel so I could open the cabinet under the sink. He did, and I pulled out the first aid kit.
"Ah, Nurse Clawdia has returned. Not going to use any of that classic World War I medical knowledge? There's a small bottle of vodka in the mini fridge."
"Be quiet." I smacked his arm with the kit and took out the alcohol wipes.
"Ouch, Nurse Clawdia. Did you treat all your patients like this, or am I just special?"
I tore open the packet and began cleaning his wounds. "I was the least brutal nurse on my ward. My patients, when conscious, were always so glad they had me when they saw Sister Martha giving sponge baths."
He chuckled. "I bet they weren't just glad for the treatment, but also for the view."
"Why do you think that? Sister Martha could have been a beauty."
"Was she?"
"Everyone is beautiful in their own unique ways, Charlie."
He made a hum of disagreement. "I bet she had shoulders like a rugby player and a square jaw and a big nose, straggly hair, and a snaggle tooth."
"That is so unkind, Charlie!"
"Am I wrong?"
"She didn't have straggly hair," I muttered reluctantly.
He laughed so hard tears beaded in the corners of his eyes.
The shower turned off, and I handed Zaide a towel before he stepped out. "I feel reborn," he announced, and I tried to keep my eyes on his rather than his hard, wet body.
"It wasn't separation anxiety at all, was it, Clawdicat. You just wanted to stare at hot, half-naked men." He tutted at me. "Shameless."
A blush flushed into my cheeks, and I spluttered, "No … I—"
"Ignore him, Little Cat. He’s teasing." Zaide picked up another towel and began squeezing excess water from his ridiculously long white hair. "You are staring, Little Cat. Is Charlie right?" He grinned his dimpled smile, and the scar up his eye seemed to glow in the light in his eyes.
"I'm just thinking."
"Anything interesting? Witches? Gods? Dragons?"
My stomach sank. "Dragon. Do you think I created it or caused it to rise? To attack the witches?"
"Clawdicat, no. Listen, Sigurd the protector died killing a dragon. Remember? The dragon must have been in the same place as him, and the magic raised them both. The dragon had been killed because it kept eating witches. I think it was always going to rise fighting."
I sighed and nodded, relieved I wasn't the cause of the attack.
"Can we go and get dressed now? My nipples are getting cold," Charlie grumbled rubbing his chest.
I rolled my eyes at him and suddenly squeaked when the door swung open.
"You all look cozy here," a red-headed demon said with a wide grin.
"Savida!" We all gasped and rushed toward him.
Zaide reached him first and pulled him into his sopping wet golden chest. "I am very glad to see you upright and talking, my friend."
Savida's dark hand patted his back. "And I am glad to be in such a state too." He pulled out of Zaide's embrace and looked at Charlie with a huge grin. "Are you also overwhelmed with joy at the sight of me? Will you embrace me?"
