He made a thoughtful sound, opened his mouth, and then a yawn caught him.
“You’re tired,” she said quietly, assessing his arm, clean of blood and looking marginally better.
He glanced wearily out the doorway to the big bed in the room’s center. “I don’t trust that fae enough to sleep.”
“If what you need is sleep, you’re getting sleep.” Amma opened the container, the smell of mint and citrus hitting her as she dipped a fresh linen into it. When she touched the linen to his cut, he pulled back with a gasp. “Oh, stop it.”
“But you’re hurting me,” he whined, and she almost laughed as she grabbed his arm, only distracted for a moment with how hard his bicep was.
“Well, I’m not trying to.” She touched the white salve to the edges of his wound again, holding him still.
“Yes, well…” Damien was pouting, looking away from her as he struggled for the words. “It’s just unnatural, you…hurting…anything.”
Amma cocked a brow at him, but he didn’t look back. Much more carefully, she smoothed the linen over the wound, and the irritation seemed to seep out, the darkness to his veins lessening. “This can’t be as bad as when you slice yourself open,” she said gently as she worked, “but it’s only for a moment more. Be brave for me, all right?”
Damien snorted but cracked a grin, squinting his eyes shut, and his face actually reddened.
Amma chuckled, taking a final linen and wrapping it around his wound. She was careful to lift him by the elbow, not wanting to cause more pain, but even wounded and pallid, his body didn’t seem like a thing she could harm, strong and imposing. She smoothed the linen down after tying it off, running her fingers along the muscled tautness of his skin, then pulled back suddenly when she realized she had been touching him without excuse.
Face flushed, she laughed nervously and busied herself with cleaning up the used linens. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You did so well.”
He looked like he might protest, but another yawn caught him.
“And now you need to sleep.”
“Can’t,” he said, eyes half-lidded. “Dangerous.”
She turned back to him, hands on her hips. “Unless there’s a sudden change in temperature, I think we’ll be just fine in here.”
His head was bobbing down, but his brow had gone all knitted again. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands flexing like that could help to keep him awake.
Amma went back to stand just in front of him and cupped her hands under his chin. As she tilted his head up, a gentle curiosity took his features and they softened. “You’ll be all right, Damien. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
He swallowed hard. “You will?”
Amma looked down at him, and for the first time, Damien seemed small. Her mind filled with the sapling in the greenhouse and the acorn on the road and the seeds from the wild liathau. Most things started out that way, tiny but with a whole world of potential inside, and they really only got big with at least a little help. “Of course, I will.”
All at once, Damien slumped forward against her, and she scrambled to grab him as he slid to the edge of the bathtub.
“Okay, well, I didn’t mean fall asleep right this second,” she groaned, slipping hands under his arms and pushing him back up. “That salve sure works fast, huh?”
With a hefty tug, she managed to pull him onto his feet, and that roused him enough to be walked into the main room.
“Gods, you’re heavy. You better never make me drag you around when we’re in real danger.” With a shoulder under his arm and a hand pressed into his bare chest, Amma did her level best to drag Damien across the chamber, his feet barely helping. “Come on, we’re almost to the bed.”
Like he were drunk, his eyes opened, one and then the other. He grinned sleepily down at her, mumbling something nonsensical but suggestively eager, and he finally managed to help her help himself up onto the frosty platform to collapse on the mass of pillows.
Amma blew out a breath then started tugging off his boots. He mumbled something else, and she answered despite not knowing at all what he was saying, “Oh, yes, very interesting, Lord Bloodthorne, tell me more.” He did go on, a groan followed by a few, muddy words, but they trailed off into nothing by the time his boots were off.
She kicked off her own and climbed up onto the bed to kneel beside him. His eyes were closed and mouth was open—was he already asleep? She eyed the pouch around his waist, too bulky to sleep with, but remembered the last time she tried to lift something strapped to his waist off of him.
Well, this wasn’t that, she wasn’t stealing, only trying to make him a little more comfortable, so she undid the buckle while struggling to not think about how close her hands were to making him comfortable in a slightly different way. Amma gave his belt a tug, but it didn’t come out from under him, though he didn’t stir either. She yanked at it again, but he only made a small, sleepy noise while the belt remained firmly in place. With a silent countdown, Amma pulled much harder, but the leather simply slid out of her hands and she went flying backward.
Damien barely murmured though she’d practically hurled herself off the bed. Sitting up and sweeping her hair out of her face, Amma nearly gave up, then had another idea. Gently, she touched her fingertips to his side and then dragged them toward his waist. Damien giggled sleepily, eyes squeezing tighter, and he squirmed just enough for her to slip the belt out from under him though she nearly missed her chance, so distracted by her own laughter and the frankly giddy sound he’d made.
Finally free, the belt was warm in her hands, and her grip on it tightened as she looked down at him. To see him so peaceful, all the surliness put away, was rare, and she eased his hair out of his face. “Damien?”
He only took a heavy breath, eyes still closed.
