She winced from the cold.
“I hit my head.”
“Yes, I see.”
“Not all of us can see in the dark, you know.” She glared in his direction.
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
He found himself inhaling her scent. It wasn’t particularly enticing. Her own sweet vintage was muddled with the blood of the old ones he’d transfused. He’d never found their scent attractive.
“You’ll heal more quickly than usual, but you’ll have a wound tomorrow.”
“Why will I heal more quickly?”
He pressed his lips together. “You have larger problems to worry about.”
“My health is a pretty large problem. Tell me why I’ll heal quickly.”
“Leave the city and I’ll tell you.”
He lifted the handkerchief in order to inspect the gash and shook his head.
Her heart rate had slowed somewhat and her breathing evened out, but she still wore the scent of fear.
There were dark circles below her eyes. She looked exhausted.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said softly.
“I’ll be fine.” She tried to push his hand away, but he resisted, pressing the cloth to her wound.
“It may scar.”
“There goes my chance at Miss America.”
“What?”
She sighed. “Never mind.”
“You confound me,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
Lightly, he brought his other hand to her face and traced the ridge of her cheekbone.
Raven was surprised at how comforting his touch was. She rationalized she was feeling shaky after hitting her head and that there wasn’t anything special about how he was touching her. He could have been anyone—any Good Samaritan who came to her aid.
Abruptly, he helped her to her feet and directed her toward the bed. When she was seated, he positioned her so she was holding the handkerchief to her wound.
“Something happened in the piazza this evening. Did you see it?” He tried to sound casual.
She shuddered. “Yes.”
“Were you afraid?”
Her heart skipped a beat, providing him with an affirmative answer.
“Are you going to kill me?” she whispered.
The edges of his lips turned up.
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now. I wouldn’t have bothered to lend you the relic. Or my handkerchief, which you can keep.”
Raven removed the cloth from her head and turned it over in her hands. She couldn’t see it but she could feel it. It felt like linen.
She placed it back on her wound.
“The man who killed the other man, is he who you warned me about?”
“It wasn’t a man.” The Prince’s response was swift. “And no, I hadn’t expected one of those creatures to enter my city.”
“Your city?”
“The city,” he amended quickly.
“If it wasn’t a man, what was it?”
“We call them ferals. As you saw, they’re dangerous.”
“Are there more?”
“Yes, but we keep them outside the city. Somehow that one breached the border.”
“But he wasn’t what you were warning me about.”
The Prince clenched his teeth. “No.”
Adrenaline spiked in her system. He could smell it and hear the way her heart rate increased.
“He was a cannibal,” she managed to say.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“He saw me first. Why didn’t he attack?”
The Prince frowned. “I should have thought it would be obvious. It’s because of what you’re wearing around your neck.”
Raven removed the handkerchief from her forehead. “Bullshit.”
“Ignorance,” he rejoined, sounding cross. “You modern people live in your own version of the Dark Ages, dismissing anything you can’t understand. If the relic didn’t stop him, what the hell did?”
Raven shut her mouth abruptly, not knowing what to say.
The Prince relaxed his posture and lowered his voice. “Are you in pain?”
“I’m fine.”
“Hardly. You’re in danger and the danger is real. Tonight you watched a feral feed but you didn’t dissolve into hysterics.” His tone bore the merest hint of admiration. “I thought you lacked an appreciation for the true danger you are facing. Now I know that isn’t true. I’m beginning to think you may have courage.”
She shifted, picking up a pillow and hugging it to her chest.
“Why are you here?”
His smile faded.
“As I said, I came to see if you were all right.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” His tone cooled.