Page 107 of Wolf Caged
I pulled up my walls, building them brick by brick, coating them with steel, trying to defend my heart against him.
Kaeleron tore down that wall with nothing more than a soft, aching look and a handful of words.
“Let me do this,” he snapped, shadows writhing viciously, striking at the stone walls—at anything but me—but that soft, almost wounded look in his eyes remained. “You could have been killed, Saphira.”
And it had shaken him.
It had shaken him so much that he now needed to take care of me. No. This was more than taking care of me. This wasn’t about cleaning my wounds. This was about confirming I was whole and alive, and would recover.
“Please, let me do this,” he whispered, the flash of vulnerability in his eyes as he gazed at me stealing my breath.
And a piece of my heart.
I released him, that piece of my heart close to breaking for him as he carefully tended to me, as he swirled his fingersthrough the bathwater to heat it again for me and do something to it that sank warmth into my skin, making my body feel lighter again, chasing away the pain. Magic. He was expending magic for my sake. To heal me.
To keep me whole.
Alive.
What terrible thing had happened in his past to trigger this response in him, this near-desperate need to ensure I would recover and reassure himself that I was alive, safe, and protected now that he was back with me?
I wanted to know, but I didn’t have the heart to ask, to dredge up whatever pain he was reliving as he took care of me.
I melted under his careful attention, under each soft caress of his hands across my skin and the way his gaze lingered on my bruises. His left hand came to rest on my clavicle, and my skin and bones heated, but I felt no pain as he applied pressure, setting the fractured bone back in place. My skin tingled, that light feeling gathering beneath his palm, and sweat dotted his brow, his gaze growing intense on my shoulder.
“I cannot fully heal broken bones, but I can help them mend.” He glanced at me, gaze meeting mine for a heartbeat, revealing his regret and maybe a touch of frustration.
I placed my hand over his, holding it to my shoulder, and felt it tense beneath my touch, as if he hadn’t expected me to hold it. Or maybe he had felt that electric thrill that chased up my arm upon contact too.
“Thank you,” I whispered, letting him hear in my voice how much I meant that and how grateful I was, and part of me needed to alleviate his worry, so I added, “Wolves heal quickly. I’ll be fine in a few days.”
He swallowed and glanced at his hand, and nodded.
I released his hand and rather than withdrawing it, he lifted it to my face, cupping my cheek and turning my head towardshim. His gaze lowered to my mouth, growing hooded, and his thumb played maddeningly across my bottom lip, the touch so light it almost tickled.
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking when he looked at me like that, with such ferocity and intensity, as if I was the only other person in this world, making it impossible to breathe.
But I wanted to know.
Even when I was a little afraid of what the answer might be.
Chapter 27
KAELERON
My fingers still tingled from the soft feel of Saphira’s skin beneath them, my darkness tempered by the softness of her eyes as she had gazed at me, but as the distance between myself and the slumbering wolf grew, her hold over me faded.
Shadows swept behind me like a midnight cloak, tendrils writhing across the flagstones as I crossed the courtyard to the entrance to the dungeon. Rich aurora chased across the sky above me, stars blanketing the inky canvas beyond the shimmering veil, and the night whispered to me.
Beckoned me.
Stilted, broken images of Saphira’s injuries flashed across my vision, gaining pace as I neared the stone arch in the side wall of the castle. Her clavicle, bruised and broken. Her lip, split open. Her delicate cheekbone, bearing a black mark that wrenched at my soul.
No more than scratches in the grand scheme of things, injuries that could have been so much worse, but each wound cleaved at my control like a sword, cutting slices of it away.
Claw-tipped fingers curled into fists at my side, trembling as I thought of how afraid she had been, that acrid tang of fear I had scented upon entering the castle grounds still singeing my lungs. Together with blood. Her blood.
I had lost all reason the moment I had scented it.
