Page 108 of The Wishing Game

I mumble a few profanities under my breath that he decides to ignore—although I'm sure he can hear them well enough.

He rips the sheet into four strips of cloth. At first, I think he's just going to help me dress the wounds. But he surprises me when he goes back to the door and wrenches it open. He comes face to face with Thea, who's holding a jug of water in her arms. He grabs it from her hands, then closes the door in her face—again.

"You said you'd be nicer. That's being the opposite of nice," I point out.

He doesn't answer, his face expressionless as he wets the cloth.

"Did you hear me? You're being rude."

"I am nice toyou," he replies, exasperated.

"Well, it's not enough. You can't be nice just to one person."

"Yes. I can." He shrugs, going back to ignoring me as he drops to his knees in front of me. He gently grabs my ankle, his fingers brushing against my tender skin. His touch is both light and firm, the tips of his fingers pressing against the softness of my calf. The sudden movement startles me.

"What are you doing?" I ask with a frown, trying to wrench my leg from his grasp.

"You're dirty," he comments in a matter-of-fact tone. He tightens his grip on my leg as he removes one shoe.

"I'm what..." I blink.

"I need to clean your legs," he speaks as he removes my other shoe too, discarding it to the side. Grabbing the cloth, he starts wiping the caked mud and blood off my legs. His movements are brisk and efficient, his attention wholly focused on the task. I guess this is nice of him, but it still doesn't excuse his treatment of Thea and Cer.

When he finishes my lower leg, he pushes my dress up my thighs, the gesture taking me by surprise.

"W-wait a moment," I burst out as I push against his shoulders. He stops, raising a brow in question. "You should ask for permission first," I mumble as my cheeks heat up. I grab the hem of my dress and fold it nicely across my lap so I'm decent.

He frowns at me, confused.

"Remember how you were offended by the nudity in that TV show? This is the same, but in my world, people are offended when others see them naked without permission."

"But those humans were naked in the TV show," he says, even more perplexed.

"Well, yes. But that is entertainment and they agreed to be naked on screen."

"I do not understand this entertainment of yours."

"You said that in your world it's forbidden for people to engage in intercourse without being married, no?"

"Mated," he corrects.

"Mated. Same thing." I smile. "How is nudity perceived then?"

He stares at me unblinking.

"Only your mate can see you fully nude," he answers.

"Well, there you go." I chuckle. "Since we are not mated, from now on, ask me before you do something like this, okay?" I say with a smile. Sometimes it's like explaining things to a child.

His nostrils flare, his mouth set in a grim line as his eyes shoot daggers at me. He doesn't acknowledge my words as he returns his attention to his task. Silence descends as he finishes tending to my right leg. He switches to a new cloth for the left one, cleaning all the dirt off my skin until the previously white scrap of sheet is now a combination of brown and red. Every time he brings the wet cloth to the injured area, I wince, a stinging pain erupting from the site of the wound. He stops each time, raising his gaze to check in with me. I give him a small nod to continue, doing my best to withstand the pain.

When he's done, my legs are clean save for the wounds that are still glistening red, fresh droplets of blood threatening to trickle down my tibia. I expect him to focus his attention on the knee injuries, but he surprises me once more when he takes the third cloth to wipe my left arm, cleaning my palm and the back of my hand. He does the same with the other and soon we're out of cloth.

Oh, God, he's going to tear up another sheet to bandage my knees.

I'm about to ask him to take it from my bed this time, not Thea's, but I don't get to utter a single word as my mouth drops open in shock.

Ze leans forward and places his mouth on my right knee. He flicks his tongue across the open wound, lathering it in his saliva. He trails his lips all over my knee, cleaning the last drops of blood with his mouth.

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