He used it on his own wound and his skin pulled together like hot caramel.
My gaze traces his movements.
He dips two fingertips into the ointment, then scoops out a glob that glistens honey. He brings it to my wrist—and a wince cuts through me.
That.
Fucking.
Stings.
My face twists in a grimace, a groan bottled in my swollen chest.
The warrior throws an impatient look up at me before he spreads the whole glob around my entire wrist.
My teeth bite down on my bottom lip. “Ffffffffff—”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Like vinegar in an open wound, lemon in the eye, tequila in the throat.
The urge to boot out at him is strong.
I fight it, toes curled and tensed in my socks, and I lean closer to him, my hair falling into my face as I try not to throw myself to the ground.
“Weak.”
My glare snaps up.
Doubled over, the burn of my stare is shrouded by my fallen strands of hair and my lashes. But I’m not a raging idiot, so the moment his glare meets mine, I look down.
Still, the groan is stifled in me, a hum in my chest.
He continues rubbing the ointment into my flesh, does it much like he kneaded his own, circling around and around. He uses the pad of his thumb along the bone of my wrist, then along the stinging cuts and bruises.
Beneath his touch, purple stains fade. Crimson streaks thin.
It starts to heal right in front of my eyes.
I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit since the blackout came tumbling through the skies. I’ve seen things I can’t explain beyond ‘magic’.
But to see it happen to myself, my own flesh, is something else.
The sting remains, but it’s hold on me is slipping.
I’m mesmerised by the performance of it.
The methodical caress of his thumb, over and over, smooth, gliding along the gloss of balms, every bruise, every scrape fading away.
For a while, I watch, and with each passing second, the stings lessen and lessen until there’s hardly any pain at all.
The background noise of the camp is soft, murmured conversation and splashing water and chuckled laughs that sound so distant.
It’s the only sound between us, until—
“You weep.”
I lift a doubtful look to him.
