He exhales with enough force that his breath washes across my skin and I realize that he’s bent to inspect my back. He growls and it’s evident that the state of my back is causing him frustration. “This needs patching to mask the scent of blood, but how am I supposed to help you when I can’t touch you?”
My pride rises in indignation. “You don’t have to help me. I’m fine without help.”
“Okay, let’s take all the helping-of-Marbella out of the equation. There are more shadow panthers out there and they can smell you a mile away. We need to do something about this.” He sighs. “Is there some way I can attach a patch without touching you?”
“I doubt it. Sorry. Give me a minute and I’ll try to do it myself. Then we need to get moving again.”
I plod over to my pack, pull out the medical pouch Jordan packed for me, and choose the largest square of patching I can find. It’s made of soft, thick material and has adhesive gum around the edges so I won’t need to bandage it in place.
My suit is ripped from the neckline to beneath my shoulder blades, but the wound goes further down since the gargoyle’s claw dragged the lower half of my suit instead of cutting it. That’s a good thing because it means my clothing isn’t ripped to shreds, but it makes it very difficult to get the patch on. I try to keep the suit open, but the adhesive on the patch sticks to the material.
I peel it off and try again.
Argh, seriously?
I close my eyes. “Jasper?”
He strides to my side, eyeing the patch half stuck to my back, the other half stuck to my suit.
I take a deep breath. My face burns with every word. “It turns out that I’m going to need to take the top half of my suit off so I can get this patch on.”
The moonlight is behind him so it’s hard to see, but I’m pretty sure his expression doesn’t change. I’ve never met a male who could hide his reactions so well. Even his voice remains monotone. “You want me to give you space.”
“Sort of requires you to take your eyes off me. Can you do that?”
Without a word, he spins and presents me with his back. “Yes, Princess.”
So we’re back to “Princess.” I guess I’ll have to live with that.
As quickly as I can, I pull the top half of the suit down to my waist, shivering in the cold. My hair is tied up in braids to keep it out of my eyes and prevent it snagging on anything. My only regret is that I can’t swing it forward to give myself some warmth and cover. As I swivel my neck, I freeze at what I see on my shoulder.
There’s a gargoyle-palm-shaped bruise across it, and another one across my waist on the other side. It’s obvious that a living creature has touched me, even if it was through my suit and not skin to skin. I glance at Jasper, relieved that he’s keeping his word. Nobody can see these marks—if they do, the uproar I caused at the Heartstone Ceremony will seem like a stroll through the forest in springtime.
I arch back, swiftly placing the patch over the wound, pressing it as best I can around the edges. I slide my suit back up, pushing my arms through it, and clear my throat. “All done, thank you.”
He doesn’t wait for me, retrieving his pack and heading toward the path I’d picked before. I join him, matching his stride down the rough terrain, happy that he doesn’t feel the need to talk.
* * *
We’re halfwaythrough the valley before the sun begins to rise. By then, we’re both covered in icy particles, our breath frosting the air, and our steps labored. The trees around us are white with ice. It would be pretty if it wasn’t so deadly. The only way to survive is to keep moving, but the cold… All I want to do is lie down and sleep.
Most of the tension leaves me with the first rays of the new day. It’s not enough to warm us yet, but it’s a hint of the warmth to come. My teeth chatter, but I manage to form sounds. “N-n-no more shadow panthers.”
He chatters back at me. “No more s-s-snakes.”
“Wh-what snakes?”
“Two miles back. Big. Black. Behind you. Ah, never mind.” He waves it away.
My jaw loosens as the sun finally hits me, unlocking me from the cold. I shake the ice from my shoulders and hips, thumping the thicker layers to crack them. “You didn’t call for help when the panther attacked you last night.”
He sucks in a breath, his chest filling out. The sunlight slants through the trees across his face and eyes. Snowflakes still sparkle on his eyelashes. He swipes at them. “I fight my battles alone. Always have.”
“We have that in common.” I study the path ahead, wondering if it’s safe to run again. It would definitely be easier to run on the flatter land and conserve our energy for the climb. “The Storm Vault is my daily battle. Nobody else can fight it for me.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s violent, strong. It pushes me around until I push back. It’s moody and unpredictable. Sometimes it feels like…”A person.
