On hearing his answer, my finger traced along the wood patterns on the floor, but inside my feelings were joyful. Warm and… happy…
Silence ensued for several minutes. My hands remained tracing the wood on the floor, but I could feel Flame watching me. When I eventually lifted my eyes, my cheeks heated anew.
As the light grew brighter outside, I noticed that Flame’s blanket had bunched at his legs. And in this light, I saw the true extent of his injuries, the open gashes on his skin, the dried blood and dirt that he needed to remove.
“Flame?”
Flame, still fighting his exhaustion, struggled to look up at me. For a moment I had to stop myself from reaching out my hand and touching his face. His expression, as he stared up at me from his place on the floor, was so innocent, so lost, I wanted nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and tell him he was safe. Safe with me.
Flame waited for me to speak, his large dark eyes blinking slowly. Clearing my throat, I pointed to the bathroom. “You need to cleanse. You will heal better if you are free from the blood covering your skin.”
Flame looked down at his arms and frowned.
“I shall run a bath for you,” I said, as I got to my feet.
“It has to be cold,” he stated firmly.
I stopped dead and I looked back over my shoulder. “Okay.”
I went to move again, when he instructed, “The coldest it can be. No hot water.”
I dropped my head, fighting sadness and wonderment at why it had to be that way. “Flame—”
“I need it to cool the flames, Maddie. I can’t fucking have it any other way.”
“As you wish,” I replied, and entered the bathroom. When I had cleaned the day before it had taken me a while to find the towels. They were in a closet that I knew had never been opened. I suspected he did not use them.
Moving to the large tub, I began running the faucet: cold tap only. I ran my hand under the flowing water and flinched at the icy coldness. I did not know how he could stand it. I did not know how sitting in this temperature would feel good. But then my heart dropped when I knew that was the very reason.
It would inflict pain. He would suffer more pain. My eyes squeezed shut at the thought of him sitting here nightly, forcing his body to sustain such a frigid temperature, to calm the flames he believed so desperately tormented him.
Out of nowhere, a fierce anger surged through me. I was angry at the man who made Flame think this way. And I was angry at how no one had ever told him he was not evil. That he was so much more.
Leaving the tub to fill, I made my way back to the main room. Flame had turned over, his front now facing the direction of the bathroom. My heart swelled when those black eyes landed on me and he exhaled in relief.
“It is filling up.” I pointed to the kitchen and said, “I am going to make us some food. You have to eat to restore your strength.”
Flame's blank expression gave nothing of his feelings away, then he said, “I am so tired. My body feels weak. I fucking hate feeling like this.”
“I know. But we will get you better. We will make you strong again.”
“We?” he questioned.
I edged in the kitchen, but looked back to say. “Yes. We. I am here to care for you. I am here to help you feel better.” I watched him watch me and asked, “Do you understand?”
Flame nodded, his bearded cheek rubbing against the hardwood, and he said, “You’re to stay here with me. Until I’m well.” I smiled as I made to prepare food, when he added, “My Maddie.” My heart soared at the reverence in his rough voice, and hot tears stung my eyes.
He was calling me his. Claiming my heart as I had already claimed his.
The silence was heavy as it clung in the air, and without turning back, I whispered, “My Flame.”
I caught his sharp inhale of breath. But I kept my eyes fixed forward. I did not have the courage to face him. I feared I would break if I did.
I quickly busied myself with chopping the vegetables I had not reached yesterday and brought the water in the pan to a boil.