Chapter 6
Chapter Six
He exhales through his teeth. “It’ll heal. I bumped my head when we came inside the cave. I’ll be fine.”
Pushing away his hair to get a better look, I suck in a breath. It’s not a scrape. He must’ve hit his head on the ceiling of the cave.
I pin him with a glare. “Well, it hasn’t yet!
” Pushing up, I swat at the bedroll fabric until there’s enough room for me to get a better look and manhandle his head closer to the firelight.
“Why isn’t it healing? You’ve always healed within seconds before.
” Then it hits me. “You haven’t fed recently, have you? ”
“We’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll be fine, Mersi. I promise.”
“Have you ever had an injury like this? We have blood. For all we know, your brain is swelling. You might be immortal, but it doesn’t mean you’re indestructible, Cedrik.”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not feeding from you.”
The words cut deep. “Why? Is my blood not good enough?”
“Don’t—don’t say that.” His voice frays. “It’s not you. I just… I haven’t fed straight from the vein since I was turned. If I did, it’ll bond us. I wouldn’t be able to feed from anyone else. Only you. Until you die.”
My breath catches. “And that’s so terrible?”
“For you, yes. You’d feel things for me, things that would grow stronger every time I feed.” he swallows hard—“it’s a leash I don’t want around your throat.”
“So,” I whisper, “if the blood isn’t from the vein—if it’s on something—it’s fine?”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Yes.”
“And you’re still immune to magic?”
He nods. “Most that I know of. And poisons.”
“You’re sure?”
I reach for my satchel, grab the healing tonic, and swallow it in a mouthful. Then I draw my dagger and nick my palm.
“Mersi—” He growls.
“Don’t argue.” I tilt my hand so a few drops fall into an empty vial. “You said this way’s safe.”
He looks tortured. “You should hear what I have to say—”
I shove the vial at him. “Drink.”
He doesn’t.
I bend forward, and it’s now that I realize I’m straddling his hips, one knee on either side of him. My dress is bunched around my waist as I grip his jaw and bring the vial to his lips.
“It’s in a bottle and therefore, no blood bond will form, yes?”
He nods.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“It’s…um…It’s not enough to heal me.” He clears his throat. “I’d need a lot more than a few drops.”
I relax back, letting go of his jaw. “I see.”
Cedrik’s lips pull into a lopsided smile as he laces his fingers behind his head again. “Though, I didn’t realize you could be so bossy.” His cock twitches against my ass and heat rolls through the space between us.
He goes very still.
A heartbeat passes. Then two. We stare at each other, both of us not sure who should break the stalemate that’s formed.
Then his breath stutters and a low sound escapes him, more of a plea than a curse.
“Sorry,” he rasps. “My brain knows that your panties are wet because you’re half-frozen from the snow, but then you’re sitting on me like this, and my body… hasn’t quite caught up.”
Color floods my cheeks.
He huffs a strangled laugh, eyes squeezed shut like he’s praying for strength. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“I have an idea. Do you trust me?” I reach for my satchel and pull out one of my salves, then smear my blood into it.
“Do you want an honest answer?” He flashes a grin that’s all fangs.
I roll my eyes and smear the blood-salve across the gash on his head. “Hold still.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.” Using his hair to keep him in place, I attempt to use proper healing magic for the first time since my mother’s accident.
Gold threads slip from my skin onto his. The strands work their way into the wound and like a weaver, they knit it closed. It’s not a fast process, but it’s a successful one. And within a few minutes, it’s as if the gash never existed.
“There,” I say, sitting back, and releasing a heavy breath. “All better.”
Cedrik looks at me with wide eyes. His hand explores the mended area, probing it. “I didn’t even feel it. When the healer mended my nose, it hurt like someone was branding me.”
“Yeah, well, like I said… My mother was the best. She taught me before her accident.” My eyes drop. “It’s been years since I’ve done it, but it’s not something you forget easily.”
His brow furrows. “How old were you?”
“When I started learning to mend? Two. When I stopped? Four.” I start to get off his lap, only for his hands to clamp onto my thighs.
I meet his eyes, blazing and vibrant lavender, unlike I’ve ever seen them before.
“You blame yourself for not being able to save your mother’s hands when you were only four?
You were a child, Mersi. It’s incredible that you could even mend wounds that young.
That you remember how when you haven’t done so in so long.
Your mother should’ve gone to a different healer and shouldn’t blame you for not being able to help.
No wonder you froze. You must’ve been terrified. ”
Tears well in my eyes as Cedrik cups my face.
“Thank you for saying that,” I say, trapping my lower lip to keep it from trembling.
“I mean it, Mersi,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Forget what I said before. When we get back, you should demand to be taken off chicken coop duty. You deserve to be a healer and taught like one. Not used as an errand runner.”
“You mean that?”
He laughs under his breath. The sound warms me more than the fire. “I do.”
My smile fades. “I’m not sure my boss is wrong to keep me out of the apothecary, though.” My voice is so quiet. “I’m barely competent and like you said, I’m more of a hazard to myself and others.”
Cedrik catches my hand. His grip is warm. “I was angry about you seeing the letters and acting like you didn’t know who I wrote them to. I was worried about you getting hurt when I wasn’t around to help you. Still, I had no right to say those things and I am so sorry.”
“You weren’t wrong, though. The squirrels around the Keep would back you up on that.”
“Only because no one’s taught you properly. Steve tosses books at you and hopes you’ll teach yourself. He should be working with you.”
I look away and my voice drops. “And some of us can’t read those books at all.”
His brows pinch. “What?”
I sigh. “I can’t read. So, I really don’t know who your letters were to.”
The silence sharpens.
“You can’t…?”
“I look at the diagrams. The pix root? I didn’t know it was poisonous. I use the pictures to know what I’m looking for.”
Cedrik is absolutely still. “You’ve been doing all this without knowing how to read?”
I nod. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Especially not my boss. I thought he’d send me home and find a new apprentice and I thought you’d laugh.”
“I’d never laugh at you.”
“You snort when I trip.”
“That’s different. That’s earned.”
A beat passes.
“For the record, what you’ve accomplished without being able to read? That’s impressive. You shouldn’t have to hide it.”
Something tugs in my chest. I try to grin. “Fine. I’ll tell Steve and demand lessons—if you send one of those love letters to the girl they were meant for.”
He raises a brow. “How do you know I haven’t?”
“They weren’t postmarked. And no one writes over a dozen letters to someone they don’t care about.”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches for his cloak, lifting me slightly to retrieve a crinkled piece of paper.
I blink. “What is—?” Then I see the manly heart in the corner.
“Open it.”
“I can’t read it—”
“I think you’ll be able to read this one just fine.”
Hesitantly, I unfold the paper. It’s not a letter at all. It’s a sketch. Of me. I look up.
Cedrik’s voice is rough. “They were for you.”
My heart flatlines.
“You drive me insane. You hum while you work. You leave tea vials in my forge. You name your potions. Your cloak has burn holes from spells gone wrong. Your satchel smells like mint. And your idea of stealth is yelling ‘here, chickie chickie’ in the Forest of Lost Souls.”
I whisper, “Wow. Thanks.”
He cups my face. “And I wouldn’t change a single godsdamned thing about you.”
“But I thought you hated spending time with me.”
“I hate how reckless you are. Because I don’t know if I’d survive losing someone else I love.”
I don’t hesitate. I launch myself at him and kiss him.
It’s clumsy and sudden. It’s everything.
He freezes. Then kisses me back like he’s drowning and I’m the air.
I’m falling hard and fast. And right into Cedrik Frost’s grumpy, blacksmith heart.