Page 86 of The Sinner and the Scholar
The staff glows and acknowledges me as its owner, but it doesn’t heal me.
“That’s not good,” I mumble, fearing the worst. Maybe it’s a one-time thing, after all.
“Perhaps it will work on everybody else but one…” His voice trails off. “Perhaps we misinterpreted the translation. It’s not one body that can be healed but one that cannot.”
“I’ll heal the normal way. I’m used to it.”
“No,” he returns, his brows puckering. “Not the normal way. I’ll take care of you. Show me where the shower and first aid kit are. We’ll get you cleaned, and then I’ll patch you up.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to turn him away and take care of myself, but this is what I fought for. This is what I want. I nod and point him in the direction of the bathroom.
Twenty-Eight
Thea
Wesley is all business as he turns the old shower faucet on and tests the stream. The look of concentration on his face is adorable, especially as he tries to adjust the temperature to make it perfect. I feel like a swooning teenager drooling over him, but I can’t stop and don’t want to. He’s mine.
“Thank God the heating runs on gas.” He grimaces and cleans his glasses as they fog up. “But we can’t see ourselves through the steam.”
He searches the cupboards for something—finds the first aid kit, and puts it aside.
The previous Sinner who used the safe house left toiletries. Clean towels are on the rack, and protein bars are in the kitchen cupboard. It’s well stocked with supplies. Most of the items in the house are clean and well cared for. We just have no power.
I have a moment of thinking we need candles when the relic hums in my hand and glows. Soft, warm light illuminates the bathroom. Once again, the staff read my thoughts and provided. My lip curves as I rest it against the tiles.
It stays alight when I let go.
Wesley gives it a wary glance but then returns to the business of checking my wounds.
“Right. Let’s see what the damage is,” he mumbles, adjusting his glasses to inspect me like I’m one of his books.
But I don’t want to be inspected. I want to feel his naked body against mine. I like the comfort of his arms around me. He unzips my hoodie and peels it from my shoulders. I hiss as pain lances my ribs.
Alarmed eyes meet mine. “You alright, love?”
His voice is a deep murmur of compassion. I’m not used to this kind of attention. But as Alice said, I have room for better things if I stop filling my heart with the bad.
After I nod, Wesley starts narrating as he peels my shirt up my body. I can’t tell if he’s trying to distract himself from being worried about my injuries or if it’s to put me at ease. Either way, I’m completely in love with him.
“Just lifting now,” he mutters. “Just taking a peek. Alright. Going to lift a little more and check beneath.”
His knuckles brush my bruised ribs. I suck in a breath. Wish I hadn’t—sharp pain.I hold it in.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, Thea,” he whispers.
My jaw clenches briefly before softening. “I know.”
He lifts my shirt clean off my head. I don’t want to look at my torso, but from the bleak look in his eyes, it’s not good.
“You should be at the hospital, love,” Wes scolds. “They might be fractured.”
“Nothing you can do for fractured ribs. I’m fine. Sore but fine.”
He gives a disparaging shake of his head and resumes checking me. “This is my fault.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Vepar was after me since before I was born.”
