“Do so if you wish,” he bit out. “I’m sure it’ll wash off.”
“You came to gloat.”
He raked his fingers through his dark, moonlit hair. “About what, pray tell?”
“You told me I’d get sick, and now I am.”
His snort rang out. “You’re suggesting I did this to you?”
I shot him a glare. “Yes. I am.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your misery.” He pivoted sharply and started toward the door, grumbling over his shoulder. “I’ll take my belly calming spell with me.”
“Wait,” I snapped, opening my eyes all the way, though I couldn’t host enough oomph to lift myself up off the bed. “You can make this better?”
He didn’t turn but at least he stopped. “Iwillmake it better.”
“Why?”
Returning to the bed, he stood over me—brooded over me. “You’re sick. I can help.”
“That sounds too simple.” I made myself move, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and propping myself upright with my palms on the blanket. My hair hung around my face and chest in a bird’s nest, and I must look horrible.
I immediately chastised myself for caring what Lore might think about my appearance.
“Get it over with, then.” I shoved the hair off my face.
“Do you plan to thank me or glower?” So clipped. So snappy. Did he ever crack a smile or say something sweet to anyone?
“At this point, you haven’t done anything but growl at me, so you’ll get no thanks from me yet.”
His lips curved into a devious smile that made my limbs quiver. “Ask nicely and I’ll help you.”
At this point, I’d do almost anything to feel better.
“Would you please cast your spell to take away the nausea?” I asked in as sugary a tone as I could manage. It wasn’t easy with this guy who continued to scowl, the scar on his face twitching.
His dry laugh rumbled, and the sound hit me in the chest, bringing my heart to a standstill. “What did it cost you to ask?”
“My soul,” I huffed.
“Your stomach’s that bad?”
“Either do it or leave. I don’t care.” I dropped back onto the bedding and curled around Farris.
Lore remained beside the bed for much too long a time, his heavy gaze drifting across my body. He didn’t touch, but my skin still coiled tight. I felt naked and vulnerable, though the majority of my body remained covered by my nightgown.
“Youareprickly,” he finally said.
I cracked one eye open to look up at him. “You noticed that, did you?”
“What makes you think I don’t want to help you?”
“The fact that you’re standing beside my bed, glaring at me, whilenothelping me.”
“Noted.” He closed his eyes, and his hands stiffened at his sides. The porthole window flung open, smacking against the hull, and bits of pink shells and mist floated into the room, drifting over to swirl above where I lay on the bed.
If I had any energy left inside me, I’d yelp and scramble away, but I was too far gone for that. I lay there, willing to lethim do what he could, though I didn’t have much hope he’d fix anything with seawater and shells.
