I can harm—haveharmed.
But I can also heal.
I eye Zev’s injuries. Some are fresh, some are days old and scarred.
“I’ll heal you. As a truce.”
The words settle between us, uncomfortable and thick. A reminder of an identical moment a lifetime ago.
A different Mayah and a different Zev.
Not who we are now, with an insurmountable chasm of betrayal and mistrust andhurtbetween us.
“Heal yourself first,” he says gruffly. “I’ve survived this long.”
Because of my healing, you ungrateful ass. I swallow down my irritation.
Instead, I set my palms aglow and gingerly press them to the dull pulsing behind my head. Zev looks away, hands clenched in his lap.
Next, I heal the minor scrapes and bruises from the battle with my people. My eyes burn. Fuck.
I inhale shakily, then inch closer to Zev. His eyes are stony as he watches me. I hesitate for a second, then press my palms to the bare skin of his neck, my thumbs gently brushing its masculine slant. He swallows, his throat bobbing beneath my fingers.
Our eyes meet, and Tides, I lose myself in his gray gaze. His eyes soften, and for a heartbeat, I seemyZev, the one who looked at me with such warmth and affection and care. As if he were in awe of me. As if I were the answer to his every question. As if he—
“Zev…” I whisper, a hushed plea. I don’t know for what.
I wish I hadn’t.
My voice shatters whatever spell was cast over us. In the space between heartbeats, his eyes frost over, chasing away any warmth that might have lit them from within.
“Heal me quickly,” he snaps. “Then stop touching me.” His mouth turns down in a fierce scowl. “And don’t call me Zev.”
I try to mask the quiver of my chin.
Casting my power through him, I heal any new internal injuries first—including two cracked ribs. Then, with tremblingfingers, I unbutton his stolen shirt. I wait for him to push my hands away, or insist he’ll do it himself, but he doesn’t—just keeps watching me with that cold, steely gaze.
My breath catches as his tanned skin comes into view. I’d seen the damage up close each night beneath the dim glow of the moon, but Tides, his injuries are horrific under the waning light of the setting sun. Ugly purpling contusions—faint, red indents of knuckles running across some of them—and deep, half-scabbed gashes.
It takes several minutes. For the wounds that have scabbed completely, I can’t erase the scars. I can only speed up the healing process—like the thick, straight lines carved across his chest.
I want to erase them. To pretend they were never there. But I can’t. After my first pass, he’s left with a smooth row of thick, pale scars. A reminder of his captivity. Of my betrayal.
I bite my lip, ready to try again when—
“Leave them,” he growls, batting my hands away. He shoots to his feet, dead leaves disintegrating beneath his boots as he crosses the clearing and busies himself with the horse. He doesn’t spare me another glance.
Hurt flares within me, though I have no right to it.
He’s still tending to the horse when the clouds gather overhead. My eyes cut to him in a panic. Did he…?
But then he looks at the sky, too, brows drawn together. When his gaze finds mine, Zev flinches and averts his eyes like I burned him.
I watch in stilted silence as he pitches a small tent. Thunder cracks above, and my heart misses a beat. It rumbles through my bones like judgment. The canopy of swollen clouds has thickened, dark and full to bursting with rain. My hands tremble.
Finally, he sits across from me. Moonlight silhouettes his massive body—we didn’t risk starting a fire.
“I told you my plan,” he says, shoulders taut with tension. “What doyouwant?”
