Page 75 of Hungry Like a Wolf
But she wasn’t here. She wasn’t with him. And until a few minutes ago, Ravn had been the happiest he’d ever had been. Being all alone with his wife in their own little paradise had made his soul sing. But now…now he wished for his family, his sister and brothers, his parents, to help him heal the most important woman in his life.
I can’t live without her.
His heart squeezed with each beat as he checked on Carmel again then set to work on the tincture. Once it was a smooth, green paste that smelled both garlicky and earthy, he carefully rubbed it on her shins and wrist before bandaging over the balm to keep it in place.
“Freya, protect my love, my one true love, I beg you.” He touched the cross at Carmel’s ear. “And if you are listening, Carmel’s god, please heal your faithful follower. She is everything to me and you do not need her in your heaven yet. She has things to do here. Children to bear, a people to rule, and a thousand more smiles to enjoy.”
His breath caught in his throat and he realized it was a sob. Ravn hated crying, yet the pain of it in his chest was almost his undoing.
He gripped his wife’s hand and knelt on the floor at her side, kissing her knuckles, and kept his attention firmly on the rise and fall of her chest.
She couldn’t die.
She just couldn’t.
They’d spent their whole lives looking for each other. Traveled over land and sea to be together. This couldn’t be the end when it was barely the beginning.
Ravn just wouldn’t let it be.
He tipped the water mug to her lips again and she stirred. With her eyes closed, she took a sip. She winced as she swallowed.
“Good. You must drink, even though it pains you,” he whispered as he touched her forehead again.
The heat of her skin was like the ironsmith’s furnace.
He pulled at the blanket, exposing her breasts. Sweat shone on her sternum, even though her skin goose pimpled.
“No…” she moaned.
“We must cool this fever,” he said, reaching for a square of cloth and then soaking it with water. “Here, this will help.”
Very gently, he wiped her forehead then each of her cheeks.
She murmured but didn’t stop him.
He washed her neck, carefully pushing strands of damp hair aside. Then he re-soaked the cloth and carefully cooled her sweet, little breasts, tenderly calming her hot skin over and over.
She sighed and seemed to settle into the treatment. After a while, she fell asleep again.
He left her uncovered and collected fresh water. He found some loganberries and rinsed them should she want food when she woke.
On and on, she slept.
Ravn couldn’t eat himself. Fear knotted his guts. It didn’t feel like there was room for even one nut.
He paced around the pit house. He collected logs. He walked to the beach and looked out at the horizon. But every few minutes, he checked on his wife. Her sleep was deep and still and at one point, he worried that her breathing had stopped. He’d tipped his head over her face praying for the faintness of warm air on his cheek. There was. What a relief.
The sun lifted to the highest point then arced back toward the mountain. Ravn set to work on a chair, banging big pieces of smooth wood together. Perhaps when Carmel got better, because she would, he’d make sure of it, she’d like to sit and watch the ocean from it.
He paused, hammer aloft. A noise. From inside the pit house.
“Carmel.” He dropped the hammer to the ground with athumpand rushed inside.
She was sitting, blanket fallen to her waist, and was reaching for the water.
“Here, let me.” He was quick to reach it. “It’s fresh.”
She grimaced and nodded.
