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Was I really just out of practice?
I’d rarely used my power to heal in the past, so maybe what I was doing was different in some way. I also didn’t remember controlling it being so demanding. It was as if something inside Never was calling to it, coaxing it out. When I lowered my hand back down, I honed my focus to what I wanted my power to do and where I wanted it to go. Without knowing the extent of her injuries, I couldn’t just send a wild pulse of power through her. What had happened in the skiff earlier had about as much chance of saving her as it did of finishing her off.
I’d gotten lucky.
There was no way in hell I was letting it get away from me again. So, I gave her a slow, steady wisp of it, keeping my eyes locked on the colors of the bruises as they faded and the swelling as it diminished slowly beneath my fingers, until the joint felt normal to my touch. Normal but surprisingly dainty for a woman who stomped about in heavy boots. The thought nearly brought a smile to my lips, but my foul mood smothered it quickly.
That mood, however, didn’t stop me from giving in to the urge to trace the lines of ink twisting around the delicate joint with my index finger. It was similar in style to the artwork radiating down her arms. Judging by the coloring, it was newer, though a few faded lines in the background hinted at something that had been recently covered.
What would a woman like her want to hide? And just how far up did those fine black swirls go?
The thought sent a hot spike through my middle, and I tried to shake it off. This was certainly not the time to imagine what mysteries the woman hid beneath her clothes, and not just because she hated me. Her ankle wasn’t the only source of pain when she’d tried to climb the ladder. I thought back, remembering the way she’d held her arm to her side and hesitated to reach up and grab the rungs.
I sat quietly on the bed next to her, studying her serene, sleep-softened features. The steady rise and fall of her chest was strangely soothing to watch, and I stayed as I was for gods only knew how long before I made another move. There was no sign of injury to her hands and forearms, aside from a few scrapes that healed quickly with a gentle pass of my fingers.
She hadn’t moved an inch. Her breathing was steady, like the soft rolling tide on a still night, but noticeably shallow. When I lifted the bottom of the shirt, I cursed inwardly. The bruising on her side wasn’t as severe as her ankle, but that was little consolation. Bruised ribs could be unbelievably painful.
And to think I’d been turned on by the thought of throwing her over my shoulder.
Disgust wormed its way through my guilt, complicating my already unacceptable reactions to the woman. Then her earlier words came back to me; someonehadcarried her.
Whoever her Adonis was, I would uncover the miscreant’s true identity and find a way to remove him from existence. I hadn’t accessed the power needed to end a life in my enchanted realm in a very long time, but for her, I saw no problem using it.
Never shifted in her sleep and a barely audible wince interrupted my internal rant. Her eyes were pinched shut, and the hand curled beneath her head became a claw digging into the pillow. The fact that she’d managed to sleep through the pain up to that point spoke volumes about how worn out she must have been, and I wanted to keep her there, resting. Sleep was healing in ways even my magic wasn’t.
Using both hands, I slid the shirt up to just beneath her breasts, then laid my palms against her heated flesh. My power tried again to surge into her, but I managed to rein it back to a semi-controlled pulse, letting enough through to get the job done. When she moaned and tried to shift again, I kept my hands on her, holding her in place so I could wholly focus on healing the physical damage.
The next sound she made was nothing like the one before it. There was no thread of pain in it, not unless longing counted as pain. My cock reacted instantly, coming alive at the thought that she was finding pleasure in my hands on her.
“Never?” Her name was a whisper on my lips. A whisper that elicited no reaction. I let a little more power pulse into her, in part to speed the healing and in part because when it came to her, I was clearly no gentleman. If I’d imagined that sensual reaction, pumping a little more power into her was the easiest way to find out.
Never moaned again, turning her face into the pillow and clenching her thighs, but not trying to pull away.
I knew I should stop. Healing her shouldn’t have had that kind of effect. At least, I didn’t think it should have. I’d seen plenty of humans receive healing magic from others like me back in the old days and it had never had an erotic effect.
A good man would have put an end to it. Even a halfway decent man would have taken his hands off her, at least until she settled. Apparently, I was neither. It might not have been the morally right choice to continue, but I wanted her healed. If that earned me a slap to the face when all was said and done, so be it.
When I felt the last of the injury repair itself beneath my touch, I pulled my hands away slowly, hesitantly. Part of me rebelled at the act, demanding to feel her skin against mine again. She twisted on the bed and a tiny mewl of displeasure speared me, at least until she rolled her head back on the pillow and her eyes pinched tight again.
Another injury? I should just throw myself on my cutlass and be done with it.
Forgiveness had always been a challenge for me, especially when dealing with my own shortcomings, and the grudge I was building against myself on Never’s behalf was one I was unlikely to let go of anytime in this century. Or the next.
I leaned forward and slipped my hand behind her neck, sliding it up until I found the source of her wince. The knot was half the circumference of my palm and raised at least half an inch. Honestly, if the woman was this prone to injury in her normal life, it was a miracle she’d survived to adulthood.
Again, I loosened my grip on my power and let it trickle out, giving her body what it needed to heal. When the crinkle at the corner of her eyes smoothed out, I let out a silent sigh and closed my eyes. I could have watched her, could have studied every tiny curve and fine wrinkle of her unique beauty, but her features were already seared into my memory.
Her image hadn’t left my mind since that very first moment on the beach.
I opened my eyes when my power pushed back at me, only to find her wide awake and staring up at me with an intensity that sent all the blood from my brain rushing to my groin.
33
HOOK
Fury and desire warred in that heated gaze and my body responded to both, coiling tightly around the heat building inside. The urge to kiss her, to taste her, was like nothing I’d ever felt. A pull that was nearly undeniable.
Nearly.
