Caelum walked through the cave entrance until it curved to the side, offering us protection from the colder temperatures. When we came to an alcove, he lowered me to the ground carefully and pulled the ingredients for the poultice out, along with the wood he’d collected for a fire for the night.
I stretched my leg out in front of me, leaning my back against the cave wall and sighing. We hadn’t eaten since that morning, and it seemed like that would probably become the normal routine when the sun was already starting to set by the time we stopped for the day. Maybe the time it would take my ankle to heal would allow us some time to gather food, if we could brave exposure outside the cave during the day long enough to try to find some berries or vegetables or something to harvest.
We’d need to hurry before they died for the season.
Once the fire was established, Caelum grabbed two rocks and used them to grind the herbs. A small splash of water turned them into a paste. “I can do it,” I said, protesting when he pulled my boot off. He tugged my sock all the way off, rinsing it with some of the water from a canteen and placing it beside the fire to dry overnight.
He ignored my assurance that I was capable of tending to my own injury, shifting forward to sit in front of me with his side to the fire. He drew my foot into his lap, running gentle fingers over the bruising before he bent it forward and back, testing the movement. Pain shot up my leg with each bend, but I knew without a doubt it was nothing more than a sprain.
I hadn’t broken the bone or done anything to damage it permanently.
“I think you’ll be okay to walk in the morning,” he said, shocking me as he dipped his fingertips into the paste he’d created. “We’ll check the traps and eat something before we head out.”
“What do you mean I’ll be okay to walk in the morning?” I asked, scoffing at him. There was no way the swelling I had would just disappear overnight.
“You aren’t entirely human anymore, Little One. The Viniculum doesn’t just make you stronger or more agile, it makes you heal faster, as well. Your scratches already look better. They’ll be gone by morning.” I followed his gaze down to my hands and the cuts that had felt like my skin had been torn from my fingers only hours before.
Sure enough, all that remained were slightly swollen pink lines. Something that would have taken days of healing a little over a week ago had magically happened over the course of a few hours.
He touched the paste to the swelling on my ankle, rubbing it across the injured joint. A tingle spread across it immediately, a cooling sensation flowing over the skin as he leaned forward and blew on the paste intently.
“If the Viniculum supposedly makes me more agile, why doesn’t it stop me from tripping over my own feet?” I asked, glaring at the amused expression he turned up to my face. With his lips pursed while he blew on my ankle and his gleaming eyes staring up at me through his lashes, something low in my belly clenched, the sudden image of that expression on his face while he blew on other places taking me out of the moment.
The bastard smirked as if he knew it, too.
“You know how a newborn fawn has to learn to walk on new legs?” he asked, his lips curving into a smile despite the tension thrumming between us.
I gasped, staring at him in shock. “Did you just compare me to something that’s never walked before?”
“It isn’t an exact metaphor, but it’s similar. Your body is different than it was before. You move more swiftly, come upon obstacles quicker. Your reflexes need to catch up and work more efficiently now.”
“First, I have the sense of direction of a hydra and now I walk like a stumbling newborn deer. You truly know how to compliment the woman you’re trying to bed, Caelum the Marked,” I said, shaking my head as a disbelieving smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. The humor dancing in his eyes couldn’t be denied, something contagious passing between us as I tried to fight off the desire to return it.
“Tell me which part wasn’t true, and I will gladly rectify it, Estrella the Star,” he said, raising a brow as he waited for me to argue. I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong, but knew well enough that I’d be lost within a moment of wandering on my own, and my swollen ankle made it impossible to argue my ability to function on my own two legs. “The silence is positively deafening,” he said, his face breaking into a full-blown smile.
“Do shut up. We can’t all be perfect men who know how to navigate and fight and walk flawlessly,” I said, biting my tongue before I could tell him something about the way his trousers hugged his ass and hips as he moved.
“You’re perfect just as you are, Little One, stumbling on awkward legs and horrible sense of direction included. I could spend the rest of the night telling you about all the parts of you that I would never allow anyone to change,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble as he spoke the words. That tension throbbed between us once more, all brevity of the moment lost to the spark of energy. “But I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet. One day, I’ll whisper it against your skin as I explore every piece of you with my mouth.”
“And what would you do if I returned the favor?” I asked, my voice breathless. It felt like baiting a tiger, playing games with a predator as those dark eyes deepened to the blackest of night skies.
“Memorize the way the words felt when your lips moved against me. Control myself as long as possible before rolling you beneath me and sinking inside of you,” he said, his voice deep and carefully controlled. As if he knew that in spite of my words and the way I’d walked him into the conversation, he was one wrong word away from sending me scurrying backward in discomfort with how much I wanted that.
I cleared my throat, tearing my eyes away from his and shifting my attention back to my ankle, breaking the moment between us before I could do something I might regret.
“Where did you learn about poultices like this?” I asked, making conversation to stifle the awkwardness I felt over his proximity. He leaned forward toward the place where he’d lifted my dress and pushed my leggings up my legs, lingering over the spot where he stroked my calf and shin with smooth caresses.
“My father’s personal library,” he said, confirming the suspicions I’d had not long before. “He had all manner of book there, most of them very forbidden and worthy of a death sentence if he was ever discovered.”
“You miss him. It comes through every time you speak of him,” I said, picking up on the melancholy note, and the way he always turned his gaze to the side and never looked me in the eye when speaking of his father. His attention shifted back, a sad smile gracing his lips as he finally met my stare.
“I miss the idea of him. I miss what we could have been if circumstances had been different,” he admitted.