He jerked back from me, his lips pursed together, and his jaw tensed. “I’m fine.” Auriel nodded vigorously, as if he was trying to convince himself. “I’ll recover. Just some …” he flinched again, “broken ribs I think. From the fall. And then from that soturion I fought after.”
“Auriel,” I said. “What the hell! You should have said something.”
“I was more worried about you. Your fever really was high, and you—you couldn’t stand. And then after—everything you were feeling. It scared the shit out of me. I mean, by the realms, you’re so, so mortal.”
“And right now,” I pushed his golden hair from his forehead. “So are you. I know this is uncharted territory—you becoming human again, but Auriel, what happens to you now? What happens if you—if you die?”
He shivered. “I think we’d better not find out.”
“Can I—” I took a deep breath. “Can I see?”
“Lyriana.” He looked away, almost embarrassed, his neck reddening.
“Please, Auriel. We’re in this together now. You can’t just take care of me. At least, if you want to keep it up, then at some point I need to take care of you.”
“I’m still a God in a lot of ways. I’ll recover.”
“And if you don’t?” I wrung my hands together. “Look, I can’t take care of him. I can’t help him. And I need to—I need to do something, and you’re hurt. Let me take care of you.”
His eyes searched mine, his body still, then finally he lowered his chin, biting the inside of his cheek. “All right.” He gestured to his shoulder. “I uh … I’m going to need some help with my armor.”
I nodded, and climbed off the bed so I could stand before him. Then I found the clasps and buckles of his chest plate. Quickly, I unfastened each piece, and removed them one by one, carefully placing them on the table beside my belongings. He’d given me his cloak in the woods, replacing it with a short tunic he’d pulled up beneath his armor.
But when I reached for the ties behind his neck, Auriel’s gaze was distant. Like he was embarrassed. He didn’t want me to see him in pain. Didn’t want to reveal weakness.
I crawled back onto the bed, moving behind him so he could compose himself. It was so like Rhyan. I remembered the first time I’d seen him hurt. That fucking asshole, Brockton, had beat him up in the arena, had bitten his eye, bitten through his scar. Rhyan had been so unwilling to let me care for him. So guarded. Even after that, it took him months to fully open up to me, to trust me with his vulnerabilities. His secrets.
I ran my hands soothingly down Auriel’s shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin, soft and taut over his muscles. My fingers brushing lower, finding smaller scars I hadn’t seen, markings of a war from another life. Then I fully unlaced his tunic, letting the sleeves fall down his arms. What remained of the cloth slid down the front of his chest, exposing him down to his waist. Carefully, I shifted myself back off the bed, and came to stand before him.
For a moment, in the dim flickering light of the basement, I had to compose myself. Auriel was beautiful, and I had theopportunity to look more closely and carefully than when we’d been in the forest.
The muscles across his chest and abdomen looked like they’d been carved from marble with an exquisitely practiced precision. Like his body had been dreamt of by a master artist. Rhyan’s had been the same way to me. Perfect in my eyes. Perfect in every way. But he’d always been mortal. Real. Warm. Mine.
Auriel though—while almost identical, somehow still looked like a God. Otherworldly. Not from any single feature I could identify. He just was. Even now—even injured. The only thing marring the perfect sculpting of his chest were large, angry-looking red and purple bruises. And on the right side of his rib cage, there was a sharp-looking lump, like the bone was out of place and trying to force its way out. Everywhere else that wasn’t bruised or broken was scratched up and red and irritated.
Without thinking, I ran my hand down his chest, my fingers splaying across the worst of his injuries, and smoothing over the skin stretched across the broken bone.
Auriel’s body stilled except for a shuddering breath. “Lyriana, wait!” he said. “Wait!”
But it was already happening. My hand had warmed with fire, and my heart glowed as the red ray of the Valalumir, the light inside my chest, came to life. Light spilled out of my tunic, golden and warm, spreading and illuminating the entire basement. Within seconds, the darkened room had been filled with a luminous, golden glow of light.
Auriel’s eyes widened. His bruises began to shrink, the red and purple fading back into the tan color of his skin. His rib cage shifted, righting itself, the lump vanishing.
And I shuddered, barely stopping myself from crying out, feeling the pain he’d been in. Taking it on as I healed him, as I once again usedRakashonim.
As I took on more, I started to gasp, feeling my own ribs crack and break and bruise. Not really. They were fine—it was the effect of the healing—the need for the energy to exist somewhere, for there to be balance. What was created could never be destroyed. I bit back my scream. I wasn’t hurt—but the pain was real enough.
“Lyriana!” Auriel yelled in warning. “Lyriana stop. Don’t!”
But I couldn’t let go, couldn’t pull my hand away. The pain in my ribs was growing more and more tense.
“Wait!” Auriel yelled.
And then … something else was happening. Something far bigger was beginning to heal.
His aura.
It had felt larger than life to me when he’d first appeared, when I had no idea who he was or what was happening. But in that first moment, before I fainted, he hadfeltlike a God.
