She was here. Alive. Breathing. The wounds were treated. We were safe.
My tail kept stroking.
I moved to her shoulder, cleaning the scrapes there. These were less severe, skin abraded but not deeply cut. I applied salve anyway, being thorough.
Each touch was clinical. Professional. Exactly what any warrior would do for an injured companion.
Except for my tail, which continued its unconscious caress of her leg.
I bandaged the worst of the wounds, wrapping clean cloth around her ribs to protect the gashes and provide pressure. My hands brushed her skin more than strictly necessary. The curve of her waist. The dip of her spine. The soft skin just above her hip.
I couldn't stop myself.
The mate-bond sang through me, satisfied that I was caring for her, tending her injuries, keeping her safe. This was what I was meant to do. Protect. Provide. Ensure her survival.
Claim.
That last thought came unbidden, unwanted. I shoved it down.
She stirred.
The movement was small, just a shift of her shoulders, but it sent my heart hammering. Her breathing changed, became less shallow. Her eyelids fluttered.
I pulled back, giving her space. My tail, traitorous thing, stayed wrapped around her calf.
Her eyes opened. Unfocused at first, pupils dilated with pain and confusion. Then they sharpened, found me crouched beside her.
"Fuck." The word came out rough, scraped raw. She tried to sit up, gasped, fell back. Her hand went to her ribs, found the bandages. "What happened?"
"A firebird caught you with its talons." I kept my voice level, calm. "You were unconscious. I treated the wounds. All is well now. You’re safe. Sleep."
She blinked at me, processing. Her gaze swept the cave, taking in our location, the supplies scattered around us, the evidence of my emergency field medicine. Then she nodded, and her eyes drifted shut once more, her body relaxing into natural sleep.
I sat there for a long time, my tail stroking her skin, and told myself she would be fine. Whatever had caused her brief unconsciousness, shock, blood loss, something else, was past us now. She’d woken. And sleep was the best healer of all.
In time, I joined her.
Some hours later, I woke and heard Lexa groaning beside me. It was still dark outside, night refusing to give up its hold on the planet.
"How bad?" she asked.
I had to keep my voice even. "You'll live."
"That's not what I asked."
"Nothing life-threatening, but you'll be sore for days."
She tried to sit up again, slower this time. I moved to help her, my hands finding her shoulders, supporting her weight as she levered herself upright. She hissed through her teeth, face going white with pain.
"Easy," I said.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're injured, and you need to rest."
"I don't need anything except to keep moving." Her eyes flashed, anger sparking. "How long was I out? How much time did we lose?"
"Not long." It had only felt like hours, weeks. Centuries. But I’d flown quickly, and it hadn’t even been an hour, I was certain. “You passed out, but then you slept. A few hours, perhaps.”
