Page 65 of The Fallen Kingdom

The wraith shredded enough of my coat that it’s easy to tear into strips. I press the longest one over my shoulder, securing it in place with another scrap of material that I knot with my teeth. I do my best to wipe up the blood along my back, scrubbing at it until my skin stings.

Then I toss the remains of my tattered coat into the fire and shrug into Kiaran’s discarded one. It’s so big on me that I have to roll the sleeves up.

I lift my arms with a slight smile. “How silly do I look in this? Be honest now.”

I notice that a little tension leaves his shoulders. “Kam.” He shakes his head with a small laugh. “You’re adorable.”

I grin. “My god. You just called me adorable in the proper context. And here I thought you only used that word for one terrible reason.”

“Second reason, not terrible: You. In that coat. With that smile.”

“What about my definition?” I push to my feet and start around the fire. “You. Me. Cuddling—”

“Don’t.” Kiaran puts a hand out to stop me. I freeze when his pupils dilate. “Don’t,” he says again. “Stay there.”

I keep still as I look him over.How much time do we have until you’re too far gone, MacKay?How long until I can’t see Kiaran anymore?

That’s when I notice the wound on his arm: a long, jagged cut. Deep enough that blood is soaking through his rough wool shirt. The Morrigan probably injured him to help sever his control. With his powers bound, he can’t heal it.

Slowly, I bend to pick up the strips of fabric I left on the ground. “Your arm is bleeding.”

“I’m fine. Your concern isn’t necessary.”

He used to talk to me like that when we hunted together. It was the cold distance of teacher and student, expert and novice. A touch of condescension, a dash of superiority, and it always made me want to beat him over the head with a parasol.

I step toward him and he says my name sharply enough that I stop. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I gaze at him patiently, because I’m going to wrap his goddamn arm if I have to hold him down to do it. “I don’t care what you want. You’ve never experienced blood loss before. And you’re not fine. You’re pale, shaking, and you look like hell.” When he glares at me, I cross my arms. “If you tried to attack me right now, I would wager a tidy sum on me having you on your arse in two seconds flat. Let me tend to that injury, or you risk passing out in a fight. Your choice.”

After a moment’s silence, he nods once. Good. That saves me the effort of finding a branch to beat some sense into him with.

I approach him slowly, my steps careful and even. When his fingers curl into fists, I pause until he relaxes slightly. Then I crouch beside him and put my hand out, palm up. Waiting for permission.

“Is this fine?” I ask, keeping my voice low, steady.

He nods again.

I push the tattered material away to get a better look. Unlike mine, his wound has already begun the early stages of the healing process, which means that even with his powers bound, his healing is much faster. It won’t be instantaneous, but he’s a lucky bastard.

I use one of the scraps to dab at his injury. Kiaran doesn’t make a sound, not even when I wrap the cloth to bind his wound and start on the next one.

“Does it bother you?” I ask. “Knowing you won’t heal as quickly here?”

“No. This is...” He goes quiet. “Sometimes it’s easy to take life for granted when you don’t have to worry about dying.”

I turn the words over in my mind, wondering what it would be like to be immortal. That something as small as the sight of your own blood could be a revelation.

“I don’t know,” I say lightly. “I wouldn’t mind going into a battle worrying a bit less about being mortally wounded. Sometimes I wish I were fae.”

“No, you don’t,” he says with a bitter laugh.

I look at him in surprise. “You wouldn’t want me to live forever?”With you?

Kiaran stares into the fire, his expression betraying a hint of unease at the thought.

“No.” His answer is the twist of a knife.

“Oh.” I don’t want to see how much deeper that blade goes.

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