Alanna had never seen a man look at a woman like that. It touched her in a way that she hadn’t been expecting. What would it be like for Val to look at her like that? To close his arms around her like that. There had never been any hope for them before. But now everything was different. He’d come back for her. And she knew he had loved her before…. Maybe he still did?
Could it be possible? Was there some small chance for them? Her heart turned slowly in her chest at the thought.
Nim turned to kiss Tristan softly on his cheek, and Alanna spun her head to look away—to give them privacy—and accidentally met the deep, almost purple eyes of a tall red-haired Nephilim as he made his way toward the campfire.
He smiled at her with such kindness, his eyes crinkling at the sides with genuine happiness, that she couldn’t help but smile back.
Keely made space on the log that they were sitting on, and he settled himself between them with a grunt. “How is my new patient today?”
“Ah….” Alanna looked over him to Keely, who grinned back and replied, “Alanna, this is Rafe, the healer I’ve been telling you about.”
“Oh, thank you so much.” She turned to face him. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel today. You must be a miracle worker.”
Rafe shrugged as he took a big bite of bread and shook his head as if to say what he’d done wasn’t all that special. But Alanna knew exactly how she normally felt in the days after a beating, and she wanted him to know how much he’d helped.
She laid her hand on his arm and tried to make him understand. “I know you’re busy and you took time out to help me. I truly appreciate it.”
He smiled down at her, and they grinned at each other for a second. And at that very moment, Val arrived.
He looked tired, dark rings under his eyes, his beard desperately needing a trim, long black hair tied back with a strip of leather, wings held stiffly back as if they pained him. He was hurting. All because of her.
But worse than any of that was the slow look he gave her hand as it rested on his friend’s arm. Touching Rafe as she had, so many times, longed to touch him, but never risked it.
His eyes took in how close together they sat, the laughing smile fading from her face as guilt and sorrow rolled over her in a bitter wave.
Val’s eyes closed for a second and then slowly opened again, his face settling into a mask of cold, blank indifference as he turned on his heel and walked away.
Chapter Eight
Val was exhausted.No matter how much he slept, he never seemed to wake up feeling rested. If anything, he woke up feeling even more tired than he had the day before.
He stifled a groan as he scrubbed at his gritty eyelids and rolled onto his side. And immediately felt a sliver of rage coiling through his belly.
Rafe was asleep, lying wrapped in the nearby bedroll in the tent that they were sharing, snoring softly.
What the hell was Rafe doing? He had promised to look after Alanna and to call Val if anything changed. Yet here he was, sleeping like a baby.
He briefly considered hauling the healer out of bed and forcing him to explain himself. But it occurred to him that he could do a better job of checking on Alanna if he simply did it himself.
He pulled on his clothes, muttering and cursing under his breath, and stalked outside and across to her tent, half terrified as to what he would find. Indignant, imaginary demands for an explanation from Rafe and Nim swirled through his head.
But when he silently slipped inside her tent, all he could hear were the soft sounds of gentle breathing coming from two dark shapes, only just visible in the first dim light before dawn. She was with Keely, and she was fine.
He shook his head at his stupidity as he stepped outside and let the tent flap fall. Neither Rafe nor Nim would leave Alanna in danger. He knew it. At least, when he was thinking clearly, he knew it.
And she didn’t want him chasing after her, he knew that too.
He was just so used to being the only person in the world trying to keep her safe. He gave a wry snort. And look how fucking bad he’d been at that.
His anger bled away into a confused melancholy as he stood beside the low embers of the campfire and rubbed the tension from between his eyes. She was safe and free. And now it was time for him to leave.
Fuck it was hard. Harder than he’d thought it would be.
It occurred to him that he couldn’t just walk away, not without first seeing her settled. He needed to speak to Tristan about taking care of her. And he needed to be sure that Ballanor wouldn’t find her. And then he would go.
He wasn’t delaying, not at all. He was completing his mission.
He would give himself one more day to truly fulfill his promise, and then he would take himself away from this never-ending torture.
