Page 13 of The Lost Child

But he wasn’t asleep.

Bright emerald eyes watched me warily from his twisted head, but he didn’t thrash or writhe. Was it because he knew I meant him no harm or because he’d seen me before with my father? I might never know. Large white spines protruded from his back, explaining why he was on his stomach. His wings delicately laid across his back like two large blankets. He folded them defensively against his back at my approach, tight and in between the bone white spine spikes.

“Hi there. Remember me?” I tried, waving one hand at him rather lamely.

He didn’t so much as blink.

“Um … this is going to be very awkward, but I met you before. Well, I didn’t actually meet you. I saw you the day you came here. And I’m … I’m sorry for not trying to help you sooner,” I finished, feeling like a rambling idiot.

And still he stared.

“Right, well—” I choked off a gasp as my torch went closer toward his face, revealing a myriad of bruises under his eyes and jaw, complete with dried blood around his temple. Deep lacerations ran from his cheek, nearly slicing through his left eye. Had he been in a fight? Or punished?

I set the torch down a respectable distance away so I could still see, and I bent down to dig in my pouch. I wasn’t a healer by any means, but I always carried a few basic herbs for pain. I threw a few roots for bruises into my mouth and chewed frantically, spitting out the mush and rubbing it vigorously between my fingers to make a paste.

I cautiously reached out to him, my hands sticky with the poultice. The scales around his eyes bunched as he bared his fangs, but he didn’t move otherwise. He couldn’t.

Tentatively, I smoothed the paste onto a particularly nasty bruise on his back, trying not to gawk at his gargantuan, silver wings. I crouched close to do what I could while being able to jump away at a moment’s notice. He was stiff and rigid under me, but didn’t have much of a choice as I spread the paste on his back.

I couldn’t help but admire his sharp, defined muscles as I worked around his wings carefully. I withdrew and waited.

Inch by inch, his body relaxed, the herbs no doubt already working to numb and soothe the damaged skin and muscle. I added a few more, working closer towards his face.

Canavar exhaled through his nostrils but still stared at me with a direct challenge.

The bruises around his neck were likely from the collar, and they looked much worse than the ones on his back. I reached over to slip my fingers under the iron ring and his head snapped to the side, catching me off-balance. Before I could blink he caught one of my long braids in his teeth. He bit down hard, forcing me to bend my face towards him and freeze, lest he ripped my hair out by its roots.

I took a moment to breathe and push down my panic. This was ridiculous. Being bested by someone who was literally chained to the floor? Hysteria welled in my throat, but I pushed it down.

“Drop that,” I ordered him harshly.

He glared right back, his eyes darting to my fingers, and back to his neck.

I wrapped my clean hand around the braid in his mouth, giving them a cautionary tug. They wouldn’t move.

“This is a hell of way to tell me I’m allowed to get closer,” I said, and I could have sworn a wicked grin teased the corners of his mouth. The shadows had to be playing tricks on me.

I ignored the fact he had my hair in his mouth, and shifted my weight so I could swing my legs around and straddle his lower back. He had a lot of bruising near the back of his neck. The excess herbs I slowly wiped underneath his collar, trying hard to be calm and not memorize every inch of him. I had to ignore the matted, dreadlocked mess of his red hair for now.

All while my head was forced next to his.

The large, flat nose was still his most prominent feature, though the glowing green eyes were a close second. His chin was pointed and defined. A narrow bone structure sculpted in his cheeks and jaw. The firelight bounced off his silver scales which faded to black down his waist and to his feet.

His very naked waist.

Oh fuck.

Stupid Nerissa. Of course he was naked! I took another breath in and held it. I was sitting directly above his bare ass. How professional. I took a deep breath in, held it, and let it out. It wasn’t like it was his fault he was naked. I could be business-like about this. That’s how real healers were, right?

Canavar huffed with frustration, his head turning side to side as he tried to find a comfortable position to lay his head while chained face down and keeping my hair in his teeth.

A bit of pity rose in my chest for him.

I licked my lips; I had to do something to make him comfortable in those chains. I dug out the food in my pockets and put it next to his nose. He froze, then let my hair go.

I shot up and went out of the cage, leaving the door open since he was chained down. I pressed my hands against the rough wood of the crank, giving an experimental push. This thing was rough, rusted, and took a lot more effort to move.

“I hope it’s lefty loosey,” I mumbled under my breath. The last thing I wanted was to make it any tighter on Canavar.

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