She paled, the loss of color in her face a shocking contrast to her bright hair and eyes. “Okay. We’re good swimmers.”
Carver huffed, eyeing her in disbelief as he lay there, one cheek squashed against his sheets. “I’ma good swimmer. You flop around like a fish in a basket.”
“Thenyoudive,” she snapped.
He smiled, his muscles relaxing under the heat of her glare. “There’s my Bel.”
She stared at him, unmoving. Unblinking. Finally, she shook her head, maybe erasing his last words and going back to the previous ones. “That’s good news. Very good. I’m just sorry you bought it with the skin on your back.”
Carver chuckled darkly, actual humor in the sound. “It’ll grow back.”
“You’ll be scarred for life.”
His gaze locked on Bel’s. “I don’t really care.”
She cocked her head, her mouth pursing in thought. “Good. They’re marks to be proud of. They’re bravery,fight, compassion for someone who needed help. Besides, the most handsome man I know has plenty of scars.”
Carver narrowed his eyes. That had started out well, but now he wasn’t amused. Did Bel mean someone from her past? Or someone he knew? Suddenly wanting to tear a faceless man’s arms off, he growled, “Who?”
Bel abruptly stood, popping up and backing away from him so fast her hip bumped into the table. The jug of wine tottered precariously. Scowling at her, he barely gave it a second glance.
“You,” she growled back, her expression as pinched as he’d ever seen it.
“Me?” Carver’s heart thumped. Heat surged inside him, fiercer than any fire in his back.
She gripped the edge of the table. “Don’t look so shocked, or I’ll take it back.”
“You can’t take it back.” And he’d hold on to it. Bel didn’t say nice things. They were literally incompatible with her mouth.
“I can do anything I want.”
“Say it again,” he rasped.
She scoffed. “Needy, aren’t we?”
“I’m injured. Give me what I want.”
Hot, blue-green eyes speared him to the bed. “You’re tolerable to look at. The scars will be an improvement.” She sniffed, lifting her chin.
Carver relished her reluctant capitulation. If he could get this much from Bel, maybe he could get more. “You’re tolerableto look at, too. And if someone givesyoua scar, I’ll rip them limb from limb and feed them to the sharks.”
Her lips parted in surprise. Her color rising, she stepped away from the table and cleared her throat. “Can you sit up?”
“I think so.” He forced himself upright even though it pulled at Dex’s stitches. Wincing, he struggled to stand for the first time in hours.
“Move gently!” Bel chided, reaching for his arm. Gripping his elbow, she watched him from under knitted brows, clearly worried he was about to keel over. And he just might—but only from shock that she was voluntarily touching him. Andholding on.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. He ached from head to foot, and little glowing spots danced across his vision before fading under a long, leaden blink.
“And you’re usually such a good liar.” Frowning, she let go and turned, reaching for the wine. “Here. This’ll come in handy for once.”
“Nowyou want me to imbibe?” Carver’s mouth instantly watered again, and he swallowed hard. “That’s a slippery road, princess.” He didn’t want the wine, and yet he thirsted for all it could bring.
“Of course not. I didn’t utterly ignore everything your mother and sister used to talk about back in Castle Thalyria. I’m going to try to kill off potential infection by dousing you with this.” Her eyes flicked toward the large basin where he bathed. “Then I’m going to slather you with honey, because you taught me that just last night.”
Relief coursed through him, its own sort of drug that left him slack. He nodded. As long as he didn’t have to hold that jug in his hands… “Sounds almost erotic,” he murmured.
A tiny pulse of sun-flare heat burst out of her. It was enoughto warm the air between them but not enough to burn him. Bel’s still-wet hair dried instantly, gaining volume, and he smirked, absurdly satisfied.
