Then she remembered Cael could scent such things.
Her head shot up, and she scrutinized his face. But other than a slight flaring of his nostrils, he kept perfectly still.
Right, he was probably used to this kind of reaction. Likely inspired it whenever he took his shirt off.
Other than a slight reddening along his left ribs, there didn’t seem to be much damage. Which meant either there wasn’t any, or that the bruises would take longer to develop.
She stroked her fingertips along the redness, and he jolted. “Sorry! Guess I found the spot.”
“Don’t touch it,” he ground out, his stormy gray eyes narrowed.
She narrowed her own. “Why did you even let me look if you’re not going to let me heal it?”
He flicked a wayward curl off his forehead. “Wanted to remind you how incredible I look without a shirt on.”
“Please,” she scoffed. “I’ve seen better.”
An absolute lie.
Cael’s body had been carved from her most wicked fantasies. Better even than how she’d pictured the brawny heroes in her books.
He chuckled softly, the hard knot of his throat bobbing as he dipped his head back against the wall. “Mmm-hmm.” The low rumble of his voice crept up her thighs. “Nasty. My face must be healing.”
Her lips quirked up, and she dipped her fingers into the cool balm. “I’m putting this on you whether you want me to or not. Not sure there’s much you can do to stop me at the moment.”
He clenched his teeth in anticipation. “You shouldn’t have warned me. Do it quickly.”
She settled the tin in her lap and clasped his hand with her clean one. “Try not to break my fingers, please.”
She didn’t hesitate another second, rubbing the salve in circles over his battered ribs. He roared in agony, then squeezed her hand so tightly she worried he’d fused her knuckles together.
“Done,” she whispered. His chest quivered as he sucked in gulping breaths of air. She tried to remove her hand, but he kept hold of it as he descended from the apex of his pain.
He brought her throbbing hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. And damn if it didn’t make them feel better. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s okay,” she said breathlessly, her heart racing at the touch of his plush, warm lips on her skin. “Ican take it. Baby.”
He smirked as he sat up straight and she tried not to be disappointed when he lowered his shirt. He seemed more lucid than he had all night. “Where are we?”
“Maksym’s filthy sex dungeon?” she volunteered.
He laughed heartily, wincing and gripping his side. “Which is the filthy part—the sex or the dungeon? Must be the dungeon. Not nearly enough chains down here for the sex to be filthy. Or fun.”
Heat crept across Xenia’s cheeks.
Cael pushed his limp waves off his forehead, his face tightening with rage. “Have you been down here the whole time?”
“It wasn’t so bad,” she answered, pointedly dragging her gaze across his broken wing, his bruised ribs.
His expression turned anguished. “Xenia, I—”
“Stop. This isnotyour fault and I won’t have you taking the blame. You’ve been punished enough. No more moping or self-flagellation. Focus on healing so we can get out of here.”
“How am I going to heal when they keep dosing me with that suppressant?”
Her broad grin tugged at the edges of his lips. “I guess we have some experiments to run, pterodactyl.”
CHAPTERNINE
