Page 65 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

I swallow. No wonder she’s wary of letting anyone look at her wounds. Who would do something so savage?

I’m careful while assessing her shoulder, but she inhales sharply as soon as I touch it, and I find my suspicion confirmed.

“I have to pop your shoulder back in,” I say, resenting that I have to hurt her again.

“Just do it.” She sounds resigned.

“Can you lie down on your belly, the right arm over the edge of the bed?” I help her out of her boots and position her, using one of my shirts to cushion her shoulder. “Now relax.” She seems a lot more at ease around me than last time. Maybe she’s starting to trust me. “Just like that.” Slowly, I pull her arm down. My gaze catches on a dark line in the crook of her arm. That wasn’t there last time, was it?

Her shoulder pops back in as soon as I move the arm slightly forward. Her breath hitches, and she sighs in relief.

“Better now?” I ask.

She nods.

“Let’s get you on your back.” I guide her arm while she turns, draping it across her belly. My gaze is drawn to the dark marking again because that is what it is. She sees me noticing but evades my gaze. “There are a few things we have to talk about,” I say. My eyes lock on her.

“No, we don’t,” she answers, her jaw set.

“Yes, we do,” I disagree. When she doesn’t react, I let it slide—for now. “Let me see your face so we can start with the healing.”

She closes her eyes, nodding to let me know she’s ready. Her lashes are dark against her pale skin, and she looks softer and vulnerable. I skim my thumb over her cheek and brush some loose strands out of her face.

“Do you trust me?” The words are out before I even realize I’m going to ask that. Her eyes fly open, the wariness loud and clear. She doesn’t, and it irks me. I want her trust.

I shove down my ridiculous feelings. She’s not mine. I have to remember that.

When I stay quiet, her eyes flutter closed again.

She doesn’t make a sound when I use my magic to straighten out a fracture in her cheekbone, but twin tears streak down her battered face, vanishing in her hair, slaying me.

I avert my gaze before I give in and wipe them away.

What is it with this girl?

I place my hands gently on the bare skin of her shoulders and let my magic flow. Just like last time, she stiffens. But she doesn’t jerk away this time, so I count that as progress. I pour in even more magic, unbearably aware of my fingers on her bare skin. My eyes roam over her face, looking for change.

Her breathing becomes easier, her body relaxes, and the bruises fade. The cut on her lip closes, and the swelling goes down until only the dried blood remains. Summer exhales slowly, her eyes fluttering open when I lift my hands.

Sweat beads her brow, and she fights a yawn. The hand resting over her chest trembles, but she hides it when she sees me noticing.

Our eyes lock. Little flecks of gold hide amid the blue and green, like sunlight playing on the ocean’s depths. I could drown in those eyes. Her pupils widen. Awareness gathers between us like a bowstring snapping taut.

The jiggling of the door handle, followed by a knock, snaps me out of my trance. Jared is back.

“Just a minute.” My voice sounds husky, and Ara shoots off the bed like we have been caught red-handed. I grab the shirt next to me and pull it over her head.

Only realizing it’s mine when it falls to her thighs. It’s the one I used to cushion her shoulder.She winces while shoving her arms in the sleeves, seemingly not caring that it’s the wrong shirt. She avoids my gaze, and there is an awkwardness between us I don’t like.

“You may be sore for a few days,” I say in an effort to dispel the tension, gesturing to her arm.

Ara rolls her shoulders, wincing a little, drawing my gaze to her mouth.

“That’s what a girl wants to hear coming out of a man’s bed,” Summer says. Her eyes widen, and her hand flies to her mouth, covering it.

She looks up at me, heat sparking between us.

The knock sounds again.

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