Page 74 of Bound to the Shadow Prince

Oh, is he borrowing my phrases now? Biting back a giggle, I hold three fingers up. “How many do you see?”

“I see three kitten claws,” he murmurs, taking my hand in his and kissing each fingertip as if to prove it.

All right. I think the leaves are definitely working. “I’m going to clean your wing and then sew it up, all right, love?”

He groans, the sound more reluctant than pained. “Must we?”

“We must,” I say firmly, amused. “This will be easiest if you lie on the floor next to me and I spread your wing over my lap. Can you manage that?” I get to my feet and grab one of thebiggest pillows off the bed. By the time I turn around, Nemeth is on the floor already, his strange legs bent, and his head turned due to his sweeping horns. I tuck the pillow under his head and he tries to kiss my fingers again. “Not now,” I cajole. “You can kiss them after you’re stitched up.”

“Have you ever stitched up anyone before?” he asks as I make him comfortable on the floor, adjusting the pillow.

“I have not.” I’m bloody nervous about it, too. Terrified, really. What if I can’t do it? What if I’m too disgusted by the thought that I can’t pull the needle through his flesh? But if I don’t, there’s no one else that can.

“Then I am proud to be your first,” he says.

I snort. Now I know he is truly drunk. I settle in next to him, sitting on my knees, and I spread a towel in my lap. “Let’s just get you taken care of, all right? Spread your wing for me.”

He does, and I want to cry all over again at the sight of his poor mangled wing. How am I ever going to sew it so tightly that he’ll be able to fly again? I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, determined not to panic. He needs me. He needs me.

I can do this.

“Is it very bad?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Not so bad,” I lie, wiping more blood away and then applying a cleansing ointment sent by Riza for cuts and scrapes. “I’m trying to figure the best way to go about this. I think I can get the stitches tightest if I tack the sides together in a few spots, and then go back over to the smaller stitches to pull everything together like two pieces of fabric. All right?”

Nemeth doesn’t answer, and when I look over at him, he gives me a dreamy look. “You are so beautiful, Candra.”

I smile at that momentary distraction. “Thank you. I’m going to sew the first stitch now.”

He continues to watch me as I take the needle in hand and brace myself. Then, holding my breath, I make the first stitch.He doesn’t so much as twitch, and when I’m done, I expel a gusty sigh. All right. I can do this after all. “How are you holding up, love?”

“You called me love,” he muses. “Twice now. You must really like my knot.”

Chuckling, I make the next stitch. Flirty drunks, I can handle. “Thinking about that, are you?”

“Constantly,” he admits.

I continue stitching his wing, hoping that I’m doing this right. I tack it in several spots to hold it together, then go back to the “beginning” of the wound and wipe away blood. I make the first tiny stitch, wishing for the first time that I’d paid attention to Riza’s needlework lessons. Still, how hard can it be? You make a stitch on one side and pull the needle through. That’s all. I make a tiny cross-stitch instead, since that seems more secure, and glance over at Nemeth to see how he’s handling the pain.

He’s still watching me, his expression thoughtful.

“I’m doing the best I can,” I tell him, making another stitch. “Tell me if you need me to pause so you can handle the pain.”

The Fellian snorts. “Mere tickles.”

I wipe away more blood. “Uh huh.”

“Is it true?”

I pause, looking over at him. “Hmm?”

“You called me love. Twice now. Did you mean it?”

For a drunk, he has an amazingly sharp mind. I’m not used to being confronted on my flirting. “It’s an affectionate name. I feel affection for you. Of course I’m going to call you ‘love.’”

“You feel affection for me?”

“I said that, didn’t I?”

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