1. Danger in beauty #3
The banshee’s wail chased them into the trees, yet Cat maintained his pace. The sting in his side didn’t register until the fight was far behind them, when the noise thinned and the forest closed in. Pain grew beneath his ribs; her armor was burning him.
“The Iron,” he hissed through his teeth and flicked his tail.
Of course, it was the iron. Sorcha’s weapons and armor were all made of iron.
He should have expected it, as it was slowly draining his magic the longer he stayed close to them.
Fortunately, the magic of the Otherworld aided him, and he had already begun to mend the damage.
It was stitching the tissue and skin closed with a slow, steady heat, even as it burned away and reopened.
Cat finally slowed when they found a clearing near a quiet brook. Gently placing Sorcha on the ground, he slumped back onto the grass. A long while passed before Sorcha began to speak, her voice groggy, as if waking from a dream.
“What happened?” she asked, her head pounding and exhaustion weighing on her. Cat examined her for a long moment before speaking.
“A banshee attacked us, but...” He seemed to struggle to find the right words. “You returned the banshee’s call, Sorcha. You answered it.”
Sorcha rubbed her eyes, then her temples, her brows knitting together in confusion.
“What do you mean? What does “returned the call” mean?” Cat was about to answer when Kyron emerged.
He stepped through the trees, carried by mist and shadow, his boots soaked and bloody.
On one arm, his shirt had shredded, and something had torn away the lower half.
His skin glistened with sweat, and Sorcha’s gaze fell upon exposed stomach.
Scratches trailed across his side, visible beneath the frayed fabric.
He saw Sorcha first. She met his gaze for a moment, then looked away, turning red. He smirked and then stepped forward.
“She vanished the second I threw salt down,” he said.
He kept walking, casually surveying the two of them. “She’s gone. For now.”
Cat nodded. “Still in one piece, I see.”
Kyron shrugged. “More or less.”
Sorcha moved to speak, but then her attention dropped to the crimson soaking Cat’s side.
“Cat, you’re bleeding.”
Kyron moved his hands across his body, pulling at his clothes. His eyes watched Sorcha; he watched the way her eyes followed the motion. The way her gaze lingered on his bare skin. Cat noticed too.
“It’s fine.” Cat said flatly.
“But you’re still bleeding.” Sorcha countered.
“I’ve had worse,” he said dryly.
“Cat, I’m being serious.” She responded, her frustration rising.
He smiled, slow and forced. “I’m fine, really.”
Kyron muttered under his breath and made his way to the brook, bending to wash away the fight.
As he splashed water on his face, Sorcha’s reflection appeared beside him. “Are you alright?”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said with a smirk. “What happened back there with the banshee?”
Kyron removed his torn shirt and began scrubbing the blood from it. Sorcha watched as the scarlet hues muddied the water. She didn’t have an explanation, but as she thought, she rubbed her hand as if it stung.
Noticing this, she quickly changed the subject. “I’m sorry if it didn’t seem like I was worried.” She sat beside him. “I was, and I am. Cat just looked worse.”
She winced at her own words and began talking faster. “I didn’t mean to say you weren’t hurt, or that your wounds aren’t as bad,” she stumbled over her words, watching him splash water over his tensed muscles.
Kyron chuckled, “I don’t think I’ve seen you lost for words before.”
Sorcha shot to her feet. “I’m not.”
She stood there watching his muscles tense as he scrubbed, the cuts along his side still bleeding. “Here, let me help you clean these up.”
Sorcha tore a strip from her sleeve and dipped it into the river. Kneeling beside him, she began wiping away the sticky residue from his side. Kyron tensed and gave a low grunt when she pressed a little too firmly.
“Stop moving,” Sorcha muttered, though Kyron was still wringing out his shirt.
He twisted the fabric, then sat back, leaning on his elbows to give her better access.
Her eyes followed the cuts along his side, one curving into the V of his hips.
Kyron watched her closely as her hands moved lower, toward his waistband.
Sorcha realized she had been staring too long and pulled back suddenly, jumping to her feet.
Kyron’s eyes met hers, and he rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over her from above. The chilling touch of his wet skin against her shirt sent a shiver down her spine.
With a shallow breath, he moved in closer and softly said, “Thank you.”
Sorcha gazed into his eyes, dark as a brewing storm, feeling his attention drift to her mouth. Her heart pounded so loudly that she was certain he could hear it. It was at that moment Cat cleared his throat, interrupting them.
“Sorry to intrude,” he said, “but we have to head north.”
Suddenly, Sorcha stepped back and began gathering her things, leaving Cat and Kyron at the brook.