Page 4 of Her Immortal Mate

He nods, pressing strong hands against the warrior's shoulders. As I work, I notice how his touch remains gentle despite his obvious strength.

"You're different from the other healers," he says, voice deep with a slight German accent.

I glance up, surprised by the observation. "How so?"

"You don't hesitate. You know exactly what needs doing." His silver eyes meet mine. "What's your name?"

"Mae." I press a poultice into the deepest wound. The injured vrakken thrashes, but the other's grip holds firm.

"Eike." He adjusts his hold as I work. "You were a healer before?"

"EMT." I thread a needle with practiced efficiency. "Before I decided to study abroad in Munich." His eyebrows raise at that, and I know I was right about picking up on the German lilt in his tone. "Trauma care comes naturally now."

His wings shift, catching the lamplight. The metallic sheen reminds me of brushed steel.

"That explains it." Eike watches as I make the first stitch. "Most humans panic around our kind."

"Hard to be scared when you're trying to keep someone alive." I tie off the suture. "Besides, you're not so different from us. Not really." Not when they used to be us, but they don't tend to like the reminder that they were once one of their own prey.

A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Perhaps not."

We work in comfortable silence after that, moving in sync as I clean and close each wound. His presence is steady, calming even. It's the first time I've felt truly at ease around one of them.

"He'll heal fast," I say finally, wrapping the last bandage. "But he needs blood."

Eike nods. "I'll see to it." He hesitates. "Thank you, Mae."

The way he says my name sends an unexpected shiver down my spine.

But I force myself away, to see the next injured. And the next. Always drowning out what's going on around me.

When I finally catch a break, I go to clean my hands and instruments in a basin of water, trying to ignore how Eike's presence fills the tent. His wings catch the morning light now streaming in as he moves, and I catch myself staring at the way the metallic membrane shifts like liquid silver.

"You should rest." He steps closer, and I catch a whiff of leather and wood. "You've been working for hours."

"I'm fine." I dry my hands on a cloth, hyper-aware of his proximity. "There might be more wounded-"

"The raids are done for now." His voice drops lower. "Dark elves won't attack again so soon."

I turn to face him, having to crane my neck to meet his gaze. This close, I notice flecks of darker gray in his silver eyes. My heart stutters.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know their tactics." A muscle ticks in his jaw. "I've studied them long enough."

"Right." I busy myself organizing my supplies, needing distance from his intensity. "Well, if you're certain..."

"Let me walk you back to your tent." It's not quite a command, but there's an edge of authority in his tone that makes my spine tingle.

"I know the way."

He steps into my path. "Humor me."

We walk in silence through the camp that is now coming to life, shifts exchanging positions with the rise of the sun. I steal glances at him when I think he's not looking, noting how his wings fold against his back with fluid grace.

This is dangerous, I remind myself. These brief moments of connection, the way my skin prickles when he's near - it all needs to stop. I don't know this vrakken and yet he pulls a yearning out of me I don't understand.

But I have a plan. The herbs I've been collecting, the information I've been memorizing, the guard rotations I've tracked... I can't let attraction derail everything.

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