19
Soleil
Finn is a terrible patient.
It’s barely mid-morning before he’s trying to hoist himself up from the sleeping pallet in his tent, apparently convinced he’s made a full and miraculous recovery.
“Finn,” I grumble. “What do you think you’re—”
“It’s fine,” he murmurs, stroking my arm where I’m still tucked in cozy and warm. “You need more rest.”
“You need more rest.” I push the blankets back and glare at him.
He looks appropriately chagrined, but that doesn’t stop him from shaking his head and rising the rest of the way from the pallet.
I rise right after him, catching him gently by the shoulder and turning him to face me.
There’s barely any space between us in the confines of the tent.
There’s barely room to breathe, barely room to think, barely room to do anything other than be totally overwhelmed by the demon in front of me.
Despite my very real concerns as a healer, he looks… good.
Beyond good, actually, in my non-professional opinion, but even when I push that thought aside and make myself switch back to healer mode, I have to admit he’s doing better than I expected.
His eyes are clear, his skin back to its normal demon-warm temperature when I lay my hand against his forehead.
Finn’s eyes slide shut at the touch.
A faint rumble kicks up in his chest, something that sounds almost like a—
He clears his throat, and the sound dies away.
“Do I pass your examination, Healer?”
I purse my lips, not ready to concede, even though all I’d be doing is confirming that I am, in fact, as talented at healing as I know I am.
“Turn around.”
He obeys, giving me a fantastic view of his unclothed torso. Acres of golden skin and the firm ridges of all those muscles.
A healer.
I’m a healer right now.
A professional.
And as a healer, yeah, he looks damn good.
The skin is still a little raw and red where his burns were, and I step closer to examine him.
“Does this hurt?” I ask softly, running my fingers over the tender new skin.
“Under your touch? Absolutely not.”
“Finn.”
“Yes?”
“Honesty, please. I want to know if you need another round of healing.”
A low, unhappy grumble breaks in his chest. “It’s just a little sore. Nothing that needs you to use more of your magick and—”
“I think that’s for me to—”
“Soleil.” He turns, looking down at me, his face filled with concern. “I’m fine. Really. Maybe just some more salve?”
I almost keep arguing.
But he’s probably right.
He’s in much better shape than he was last night. The skin looks good. A salve will probably help, and just thinking about drawing on more healing energy so soon sends a fresh wave of exhaustion through me.
And yet.
I can’t shake my guilt, can’t shake the feeling I need to do more, need to make sure he’s a hundred percent okay before I—
“Sunshine.” Finn reaches up and curls his hand around my jaw. “I can almost hear you thinking.”
Despite my better judgment, I lean into his touch. I lean so far my forehead rests against his chest. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Finn wraps his other arm around my back, and something else circles my waist.
His tail.
A gentle tether, pulling me into him. We stay that way for a few long moments.
“Last night was awful,” I say quietly. “I was so scared for you. I don’t think… I don’t think I’m fully over it yet.”
“I’m not either,” he murmurs. “You have no idea how terrified I was when I saw you with that drakon.”
“I might have an idea.”
Finn lets out a shaky exhale. “But we lived.”
“Yeah. We lived.”
“And we’re here.” He uses the hand he has on my jaw to nudge me to look at him.
“We’re here,” I whisper, and a devastatingly handsome smile breaks across his face.
“So,” he says, and his thumb strokes against my skin, slow and soothing. “How about you give me a little more of that salve, and then you can get some more rest before—”
“Yes to the salve, no to the rest.”
He sighs, though his eyes dance with mirth. “Has anyone ever told you how contrary you are?”
An unlikely grin tugs at the corners of my lips. “Yes.”
“Well, then. I suppose I don’t need to tell you, too.” He reaches for the pot of salve where I left it with my supplies beside the bed and hands it to me.
I spend the next few minutes massaging it into his skin. By his slight inhale when I touch him, and the tension radiating from his muscles, I’m not entirely ready to declare him all better, and I give him my sternest healer’s look as I turn him around.
“I’m going to check on you throughout the day,” I warn. “Especially if you insist on getting up and leaving this tent.”
“Deal,” he says gamely, reaching for his shirt. “I look forward to your continued ministrations, Healer Soleil.”
Cheeky demon.
He knows exactly what he’s doing as he looks me up and down, as the suggestive lilt in his voice makes it more than clear what other ministrations the two of us might get up to.
I roll my eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how incorrigible you are?”
“Yes,” he says, shameless.
“Well, then. I suppose I don’t need to tell you, too.”
My face has a permanent pink stain to it with how mortified I am to face demon after demon.
Everyone knows what happened.
News travels fast in a camp this small, and I’m sure by dawn, everyone was aware what Finn and I went through last night.
No one seems to blame me, but I feel like an idiot.
Why on earth I thought it made sense to wander off into the wilds of a realm I barely know anything about, I have no idea. But if everyone else is thinking it too, at least they don’t show it.
I try not to linger, try not to meet anyone’s eye, try not to do anything but dutifully follow Vayla’s instructions as we get our supplies ready to start mapping out locations for harvesting stellarin flowers.
It’s a nice distraction, and as we venture back up the mountainside—with plenty of guards this time—there are no more drakon spottings.
The view is also incredible, which helps with getting out of my head.
Panoramic and expansive, towering mountain peaks frame the alpine meadows where we work. The sky is a painfully clear blue, with wispy white clouds drifting lazily across the snowcaps all afternoon.
Our work is careful and tedious—right up my alley—as we comb through the meadows looking for the silvery white leaves that mark patches of stellarin. The blooms only open after dark, but we leave markers to help guide us back tonight so we can gather the blossoms.
“Only one from each plant,” Vayla explains as we move on from one patch and start searching the nearby grasses for another. “We tend these stands of stellarin carefully so we can always come back in the future.”
I nod, and keep a running list of notes in the small notepad I tucked into my pocket this morning.
The most likely places to find the plants, the best ways to mark them, information about how we’ll approach the harvest later this evening—all of it gets jotted down, and my brain is so full with the information that for a few blessed hours I forget to be embarrassed that I almost turned this entire trip into a disaster.
We come back down the mountain in the late afternoon, and my eyes immediately scan the camp for… my patient.
Just for my patient.
I’ve been away most of the day, and it’s long past time I check up on him.
Vayla catches me looking with a little smirk. “Hey Glenson,” she calls across the clearing. “Where’s Finn?”
Glenson nods toward the river. “He just went for some water.”
Vayla nudges me with her shoulder. “Go get him, girl.”
“Stop,” I whisper back, more color staining my cheeks. “I just… need to make sure he’s still feeling alright.”
“Uh-huh,” she says with a dismissive wave, already heading off toward the workshop tent. “Sure you do.”
I find Finn just as the sun is beginning to set over the mountains. He’s been with the guards today, though from his lack of armor or sword, it doesn’t seem like Glenson has put him on active duty.
When I catch up with him just outside of camp as he’s on his way back from filling up his canteen, I can’t help but stop and shamelessly admire for a few long moments.
Goddess, but he’s handsome.
Moving well, too, considering everything he’s been through.
Still, as he pauses at the edge of the woods and gives his shoulder a stretch with a slight grimace of pain contorting his features, I spring into action.
That grimace disappears as soon as he realizes I was watching him.
He hides it under a grin, but I won’t be deterred. I’m nothing if not thorough when it comes to making sure my patients are alright.
The light of the setting sun hits his face in the most breathtaking way. Golden and glowing, making his already bright coloring look even more otherworldly.
“Have a good day with Vayla?” he asks as I approach, and all I can do is nod silently as I take a few more seconds to admire him.
He does the same, eyes tracing my face and one hand idly lifting to play with the end of my braid where it hangs forward over my shoulder.
Even though I can’t feel the touch, I feel the magick.
Sparkling low and warm between us, it’s just as golden and wonderful as the sunset.
But I give myself a shake.
I’m not here to moon over him, no matter how handsome he looks.
“Let me see your shoulder.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, defiant.
A terrible, terrible patient.
“Nothing to see,” he drawls. “I’m all better.”
“You agreed to let me be the judge of that.”
“Did I?”
I cross my own arms. “Yes, you did.”
Slowly, and with a long-suffering sigh, he turns and removes his shirt. His skin has definitely improved more since this morning, but I wouldn’t call him ‘all better’ by a long shot.
The injury is still a bit red and raw, and I make a mental note to apply more salve when we get back to camp. That should help, though I also unconsciously draw on a bit of my healing power as I reach up to touch him.
A low rumble breaks in Finn’s chest.
Soft, but enough to startle me frozen, hand hanging in mid-air.
“Did you… did you just growl at me?”
The growl cuts off, and he looks sheepishly back over his shoulder. “No?”