Page 23 of Bound By Blood
"I don't see any signs of night predators," he said. "There really haven't been many about lately. I can watch him out here. I've gotten good at watching for them anyway since I can only be out at night."
"What do you mean?" she frowned. She waved the towel again to boost the smoke's departure.
"Cursed. Can't set foot on the earth when the sunlight touches it." He shrugged as if this was just the way it was and nothing to be done about it.
"What?" She almost stepped over the threshold to better see him, still holding her burned hand to her chest. "You're cursed?"
"It happens. It wouldn't be quite so difficult, except, well…" He shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. Picking up a fallen stick, he gestured to Buttons. "Come on. You want to catch it? You want to catch the stick?" Buttons barked, crouching down, his stub of a tail wagging faster. "Go get it!" He tossed it.
Buttons raced after the coarse-barked branch and returned. When Ryul tried to take it back, he growled and tugged back.
"You'll have to let go if you want me to throw it again," Ryul said.
Another growling yip followed. Then Buttons released the stick and bounded around. Ryul tossed it once more. He then glanced back at her, his smile soft.
Her stomach somersaulted as she returned the smile. "Make sure nothing happens to him then. I'll get the rest of this sorted."
His mouth quirked a little higher. "Don't worry. Nothing will happen to him." He took the stick back as Buttons dropped it at his feet and barked again.
She watched a moment longer then stepped back. Using a woven hot pad, she moved the still-hot cast iron skillet. The bacon was far too crispy now. But the fire was gone. Most of the smoke rolled out, the heavy scent lingering even though the door remained open.
She then tended the stove, cleaned up, and rebuilt the fire. The soup, at least, was unharmed. She had barely finished when Buttons ran into the cottage, his little black nails clicking on the wooden floor. Ryul had returned to the window.
"Thank you for taking care of him while he was out there." She pulled the blue-lidded jar of burn salve down from the cupboard and rubbed some in. "It sounded like he had fun."
"He did. He likes running. He'll probably like flying, too, if he ever gets up the strength for it."
"He'll be able to fly?"
He shrugged. "He's got wings. I've never seen one like him before, but I'd assume he could in time." His brow creased as his gaze dropped to her hand. "Let me see."
"Why?" She held her wrist to her chest, the salve still glistening on the reddened flesh.
He extended his own and then traced a line from his wrist up over his palm. Red light flared briefly, following the path of the blood vessels. "It will help carry the salve's healing through your veins. It won't heal you completely, but it will help it heal faster."
She hesitated, then complied, reaching through the window. He cradled the back of her hand as he studied her palm. A shiver spiraled through her as her insides tightened.
Following the same movement he demonstrated on his own, he made a line up and across. His touch was surprisingly gentle. The burn flared in color along with the blood vessels, but her discomfort eased almost at once.
He stroked the side of her hand with his thumb. "Is that better?"
She nodded. "Thank you." Her gaze met his. That tightening within her reached her breaths. She cleared her throat, heat flaring into her cheeks. "I'm sorry there won't be any bacon for crumbles, but the potato soup is done. Just a little smoky maybe. Do you still want some?"
"As long as you're all right."
"I'm…" She started to say good, surprised to realize she did in fact feel good. Even with the burn. Not neutral. Not fine. Not adequate. Some bit of happiness bubbled inside her. "Yes." She drew her hand back. "Yes, we could both use some soup, I think."
His gaze followed her as she moved back to the broad stove, though she tried to pretend she didn't notice. She dished up two large bowls of the creamy potato soup and topped them with chives. Then she placed both on the windowsill and plank. As she pulled up a stool, his eyes widened.
"You're not—"
"Did you think I only set up this plank for you?" She tried to sound casual as she picked up her spoon with her left hand. It was a little awkward to use this hand, so, of course, she had to focus on that.
A slow smile spread over his pleasant mouth. He adjusted his stool as well. "Well, that's good. I'd rather you didn't go out of your way for me. Unless it's for something that would benefit you too."
They ate in silence for a few minutes longer. Then she blurted out her own question. "Why did you tell me not to fall in love with you that first night? Did you think I would just because I'm a human? Because I'm a woman?"
"Hmmm?" His eyebrows lifted. A faint look of alarm passed over his tanned face. "No. I just—it would be awkward if you did. We have—blood fae, I mean—if someone tells us they love us—"
