Not sure what was happening, I sat forward and extended my arm to him. He took my wrist gently but firmly and turned it palm up.
“Pull up the sleeve for me,” he told me.
Mutely, I did as he said, revealing the mass of bruises and old bite scars which showed as white lines on my brown skin.
Vik’tor shook his head and I thought I heard him mutter something about “assholes” under his breath. Then he dipped into the steaming bowl and pulled out a strip of cloth. The steam that rose from it was sweet-smelling and faintly floral.
Carefully, he wrapped the warm, damp cloth around my wounded arm, starting at my wrist and going all the way up to the elbow. He was gentle and extremely thorough, making certain to cover every single spot where I had been bitten or bruised in my time as a Blood Whore.
“Um…what are those?” I dared to ask after he finished the first arm.
“Healing wraps infused withtinsablossom-oil,” he informed me as he started on my second arm. “They’ll make short fucking work off all these bites and bruises.”
“They will?” I looked down at my right arm as he wrapped the left one. Sweet Jesus, if he was right and the wraps really would heal my arms, that would besonice. I had gotten so used to the constant aching and pain in them that I almost didn’t notice it anymore—until I laid down and tried to sleep, that was. But it would bewonderfulto be pain free for the first time in six months.
“They should heal you almost immediately if Earth physiology isn’t too different from Braxian or Naggian physiology,” Vik’tor rumbled.
It seemed almost too good to be true but actually, Ididthink I could feel the wraps working. There was a tingling sensation all up and down my arms and the faint floral scent seemed to get stronger, as though the medicine was somehow targeting the worst areas.
“How long do I leave them on for?” I asked, as Vik’tor finished my second arm.
“They’ll fall off when they’ve done their job,” he said dismissively. “But we’re not done yet.”
“We…we’re not?” I looked at him uncertainly.
“No, we’re not, little girl. Because your arms aren’t the only place you’re hurt.”
“What?” At first I genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Here.” Vik’tor parted the red robe, uncovering my legs and thighs and I bit back a gasp.
“Hey!” I protested, scrambling to make sure the robe didn’t part too far and reveal my crotch. Then I saw he was pointing at my scraped knees.
“Where you fell in the tunnel,” Vik’tor rumbled. “I’ll heal these too—all right?”
“Oh, um, sure—I guess.”
I was really glad that I’d used the laser depilatory I had found in the bathing chamber on my legs and armpits right about now. I had seen one only once before—one of the other Blood Whores had one because a client who liked her had given it to her as a present. Having my legs feel nice and smooth after six months of not shaving had been my only thought as I used the one I found in Vik’tor’s bathroom, though. I had never imagined he would be kneeling at my feet, spreading my robe open to heal my wounded knees.
He put some of the steaming healing wraps over my scraped knees, pressing them gently into place to make sure they stuck. When he was sure they were fixed in place, he sat back on his heels with a grunt of satisfaction.
“There. You’ll be healed up in no time now.”
“Why…why are you doing this for me?” I asked him hesitantly. “I mean, you’re the richest guy on this planet and I’m nothing but a Blood Whore. Why do you care if I’m hurt or not?”
He looked up at me, his blue eyes glowing in the firelight and reflecting the dancing yellow and orange flames. For a long moment, he seemed to be considering my question and the time pulled between us like taffy.
“I don’t fucking know,” he said at last, shaking his head so that the firelight glinted off his horns. “Maybe it’s just because it pisses me off to see what all those thoughtless bastards did to you.” He nodded down at my arms. “Naggians are fucking ruthless when it comes to getting the blood they want—they don’t give a damn if it hurts the female they’re drinking from or not.”
“Well, I mean…how can itnothurt?” I asked reasonably. “It’s basically like you’re jamming two sharp needles into someone else’s vein—there’s no way that can’t be painful.”
To my surprise, Vik’tor shook his head.
“No true. It doesn’t have to hurt,” he told me. “In fact, itcanbe a pleasurable sensation—if the one who’s doing the biting gives a fuck.”
“I’ll take your word for that,” I said dryly. “I don’t care how ‘gently’ you bite someone—you’re stillbitingthem—you know?”
“Doesn’t have anything to do with trying to ‘bite gently,’” he countered. “It has to do with if the male biting you uses his pleasure venom or not.”