Before my eyes, his skin begins to knit back together, and with each one healed, he shakes a bit less. Working quickly, I finish his back within minutes—though, it feels like hours of watching him suffer. With my breath held, I watch as the final lines knit back together, leaving nothing but jagged pink lines where once there was torn flesh. “Okay, turn around.”
He does, easier this time, and breathes deeply as he kneels before me, resting his face between two bars, eyes closed. It takes all my focus to remain attentive to the wounds when all I want to do is study every line of a face I somehow already know as well as my own.
The gashes are not quite as bad on his front, but the flayed skin shows thick cords of torn muscle beneath it. They may not be as bloodied, but they are deep. I use more this time, not as worried about not having enough. Just like his back, his front knits back together before my eyes until I’m staring at a blood-crusted but otherwise nearly healed chest.
His eyes remain closed, his breathing ragged as he grips the bars. My blood pounds, the hammering of my pulse all I can hear as I stare at him.
The connection I feel—it’s something I’ve read about. Something I’ve written about but never actually believed in.
As if this man before me can heal every wound I’ve ever suffered. As if I’ve been waiting for him my entire life.
With a shaking hand, I reach out and touch him again, needing to feel the warmth of his body beneath my fingertips, even as I know it’s an incredibly stupid move—especially if he is, in fact, in a relationship with Flora.
But I can’t help it.
I saw him only twice before arriving here. How? I’ve no clue. But I’m drawn to this man—this warrior—in ways I can’t even begin to explain.
“Thank you.”
Resting my palm against his chest, I look up at his face. He’s watching me, expression softer now that he’s no longer hurting. I swallow hard. “You’re welcome.”
“You risked a lot to bring that to me.” With every word, his chest vibrates beneath my palm.
“Taranus took me to see Heelean about the cut on my forehead. When she realized I fell down here and not in the gardens, she wanted me to bring you this.” I remove my hand and show him the vial in the other.
“I’d truly hoped she’d escaped.” He sits back on his legs so I do the same. Inches apart, but with these bars, it might as well be miles.
“She told me her daughter will not allow Taranus to harm her.”
“Sheelin is a monster all her own. If she’s forbidden Taranus from doing anything to Heelean, chances are she has something much worse in mind.”
“She told me she’s trapped in her room—that it’s warded? Is that the right word?”
A grin plays on the corner of his mouth. “It is. You’re learning.”
“Adaptation is one of my skills.”
“As is thievery?”
“When you’re an orphan with very little to eat, you make do.”
His expression falters, and I see the ghost of pity on his face. “I’m truly sorry you suffered.”
“Just like you don’t want pity? Neither do I. Life happens; cards are dealt; we move forward or risk being trapped in the present.”
Rafferty nods. “That is an excellent outlook.”
Swallowing hard, I force my gaze away from the intensity of his own, if only for a moment. “Taranus told me you were dead.”
He arches a dark eyebrow. “You inquired of me?”
“I did. Like I told you earlier, that man they…” Trailing off, I fight back tears at the memory of the panicked victim. “He told me to find you, so Taranus knew I’d heard your name.”
“And he said I was dead?”
I nod.
Rafferty scoffs. “Not surprising. Taranus has always been an asshole. I was warned—most recently by our other brother—but I chose not to listen.”