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‘Alright.’
He went to her and started with her sleeve, unrolling it carefully back over her wound, so it was loose once more down her arm. He removed her Guardian totem and placed it carefully to the side. Then he unbuttoned her shirt, trying to keep his hands and breathing steady, wondering if she could hear the hammering in his chest.
Gently, he pushed the fabric from her shoulders and it fell to the tiled floor. Her body was as filthy as his. Blood, a combination of hers and the mercenaries’, was like rust on her skin, while a thick layer of dust from the road covered her as well.
He glanced at her, seeking permission for the next item of clothing, but Thea’s eyes were closed, her expression a mixture of pain and exhaustion as she tilted her head to the ceiling.
Wilder undid her pants, pulling her to her feet and resting her hands on his shoulders as he slid the material down her legs. She stepped out of them and stood before him in her undergarments.
‘I’ve got it from here,’ she whispered.
Again, he made to leave, and again, she stopped him.
‘You may as well tend to your wounds while I wash,’ she told him, gesturing to the vanity and the medical kit he’d left on the basin.
He made a noise of agreement at the back of his throat, mainly because he wanted to be near in case she needed him again.
Wilder turned to the vanity and evaluated his injuries, trying to ignore the splash of water from behind him, trying not to picture Thea naked. Instead, he cleaned several gashes he hadn’t realised marred his torso, none of them deep enough to need stitches. He used another cloth to wipe the streaks of dried blood from his face, and poured himself a drink at the cart, each action a deliberate distraction from the woman bathing mere feet away.
But when the splashing stilled and no other sound came from the tub, Wilder didn’t hesitate to turn. He found Thea lying there, eyes closed, the water clouded around her. Her head rested against the rim, her hair half covered in suds.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked softly, not wanting to startle her.
‘I just needed to rest a moment,’ she replied, not opening her eyes.
Wilder’s gaze travelled from the soap in her hair to her injured arm elevated on the edge of the tub. Of course it hurt to wash her hair.
‘Let me,’ he said.
Wilder knelt at the head of the tub and threaded his fingers through her hair, massaging the soap into her scalp.
Thea moaned, the sound sending a bolt of longing straight to his cock.
But he ignored his desire. Instead, he went about washing Thea’s hair, lathering the soap through the ends, trying to ease the tension from her neck with circular strokes of his fingers.
Carefully, he eased her down into the tub, holding her by her nape as he rinsed the suds from her hair, keeping her head tilted back, mindful not to let any trickle into her eyes. He kept his own gaze averted from her body, which he knew was floating above the water line now.
At last, he helped her sit up and she blinked at him, dazed.
Emotion caught in Wilder’s throat. He fetched her a towel from one of the gold hooks and held it out to her, turning his head away.
He heard the water pour from her body as she stood and accepted the towel.
‘You can look now,’ she said quietly.
Wilder wasn’t sure he was ready to, but he met her gaze, noting the slight flush to her cheeks and the droplets of water on her bare shoulders, the towel tucked under her arms and across her chest.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I know that wasn’t part of your official duties as mentor.’
Wilder forced a casual shrug and helped her step out of the tub, leading her to the vanity. ‘Make sure your wound is dry, then you can put some of that salve on it before we bandage it.’
He made the mistake of looking at her in the mirror. She stood in front of his towering frame, so small compared to him, so vulnerable in just a towel, her hair wet, her mouth parted as she, too, caught their reflection.
They stared at each other. She was clean and fresh; he was as filthy as all manner of sins. But both their gazes heated as they looked upon one another.
‘Wilder…’ Thea murmured, a curse and a plea.
She let her towel fall.
