“A native Crescan species that lives in the jungle. He’s been with me since I was a child, ever since he ended up on the roof of the supply shed. He was just a baby then. I call him a glider because of the membrane.” She demonstrated by gently extending Pip’s arm, showing the silvery skin stretched between his limbs.
“He’s very protective of you.”
“He doesn’t like strangers.” She paused. “Although to be fair, he’s never met one before. Neither have I.”
Baylin’s eyes widened slightly. “Never?”
“You’re the first person I’ve seen since my nursemaid died.” The words came out matter-of-fact, as if she was discussing the weather rather than a lifetime of isolation. She pulled a small kit from the cabinet and turned back to face him. “Sit down. Let me look at your arm.”
He hesitated, then lowered himself into her chair, creaking ominously under his weight. —the only clear surface large enough to accommodate his frame. She could feel him watching her as she approached, his gaze tracking her movements with an intensity that made her skin prickle. The way he looked at her made her suddenly very aware of the thin fabric of her dress, the way it clung to her skin in the humid air.
She quickly looked away, focusing on her medical kit as she tried to hide the warmth rising in her cheeks.
“May I?” She gestured to his arm.
“Of course.”
He held out his arm so she could examine the wound. The gash was deep, the edges ragged where the vine’s spikes had torn through flesh. She could see the dried blood crusting along the wound and the early signs of inflammation.
“You need proper treatment.”
“Like I said, Vultor heal?—”
“Quickly, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get an infection. This might sting,” she added, soaking a clean cloth in antiseptic solution.
He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
But when she put her fingers lightly on his wrist to hold his arm steady, they both froze. His skin was warm and rough under her fingertips, with a texture she’d never felt before. The contrast made her suddenly aware of her own body in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.
“Is this okay?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, his voice deeper than before. “It’s fine.”
She cleaned the wound carefully, removing the dirt and grime and the tiny thorn fragments. He watched her the entire time, those intense green eyes focused on her face rather than his arm. When she finished, she applied a healing gel to the clean wound and covered it with a light bandage.
“There. That should prevent infection while it heals.”
“Thank you.” He started to flex his arm, testing the bandage, and she realized she was still holding his wrist. Her cheeks heated again as she quickly released him and started collecting the medical supplies.
“You did a good job.” His voice was slightly rough.
“I’ve read a lot of books. There isn’t much else to do here.”
“How long have you been in this tower?”
“All my life.”
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken questions. She finished restoring the medical kit to order and finally allowed herself to really look at him.
He was... beautiful in a way that didn’t fit with the images in her books. His features were too hard, too intense for human beauty, but there was a wildness to him that called to something deep inside her. And those eyes—she could lose herself in the vivid green, the intelligence and awareness she saw there.
“I have questions,” she blurted out, partially because it was true and partially to distract herself from the unfamiliar stirring in her body. “So many questions.”
“I imagine you do.” His eyes were still fixed on her face. “Go ahead and ask.”
“Why are you here?”
CHAPTER FOUR
