Page 23 of Bloodguard

With a trembling hand, I add more paste.

Then add some more.

In fact, I keep adding paste like his life depends on it—because it does. Honestly, the color drains from his skinandmine. “Ah, this might add to your discomfort.”

“Discomfort is stubbing a toe,” he seethes. “Am I going to have a fucking shoulder by the time you’re done?”

I take another good look and consider how much paste I have left.

“Um, maybe?” I offer.

“Maybe?”he barks back. Tremors rack his frame. He grips the edge of the bath even tighter, his knuckles discoloring. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes.”Usually. I close my mouth tightly. It’s better than vomiting on my patient. That has to be a rule, right? Thou shall not hurl on thy patient?

I order my body to settle. He still needs me, and I can’t stop now.

His right shoulder makes an odd twitch. There’s an eruption of fluid and—

Yes!

Leith jerks forward, and I crouch at the side of the tub. As hard as I’m breathing, his respiration is deeper and dangerously fast. His eyes are wild, and I’m certain he’ll collapse. But then his breathing slows, and relief floods me from head to toe.

“What the blazes just happened?” he groans between gritted teeth.

If I wasn’t clutching the side of the tub for balance, I’d applaud. “Fresh blood is spilling from the wound.”

“Wonderful,” he mutters. “Indeed, miraculous news.”

I shift to my knees and begin to gently cleanse the wounds with a sponge. “Don’t worry. Nothing a good leeching won’t fix.”

“Leeching?”Water sloshes over the edges of the tub as he twists to gape at me, and I can’t help it—I start to giggle.

“I’m joking,” I say with a strangled laugh. “The next time you’re in the city, see about buying a sense of humor.”

“You seriously expect me to laugh?Now?”

“No,” I say, managing a smile. “But some gratitude would be nice.”

He grumbles something that may or may not be about my mother. I don’t let him catch my grin this time. Squeezing the sponge, I stream water over the wounds to make sure all the infection is gone.

Leith rolls his shoulder, still looking groggy, and adjusts his back. His voice is gravelly following the stress on his body. “You helped me.”

I wag a finger at him. “And saved your life. You’re welcome, big guy.”

He grumbles again. Surely, it’s a compliment about my incredible skills.

My, there are so many scars layered one on top of another, it’s difficult to discern where one ends and the next begins. I give him a moment before I slather paste over the patches of fragile, textured skin marring his back, the scars that most closely resemble my own, then tend the wound on the back of his head and what must be at least two cracked ribs.

By the time I finish treating him, the twilight owls have begun welcoming mother moon.

Leith rises when I do, steadier on his feet than he was before. That’s a good sign. His attention wanders to the cleaning stone that went from white to a sickly green throughout the course of his care.

“That was all inside me?” he asks.

“Yes,” I admit.

He’s only a few feet away, giving me a clear view of butt cheeks capable of snapping a wand in half and making a wish. Beads of water glide over muscle as his bare feet slap against the wood floorboards. His wavy hair teases his spine right between his shoulder blades. The new skin that’s replacing the burns remains pink and fresh and will need more time to toughen up.

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