He didn’t respond, but she must have seen something in his eyes because she moved at last, turning away from him before lifting her shirt. He was silent as she bared her back to him. Even in the dim light of dusk, he could see the tangled mess of scars painted there, fresh pink lashings on top of the old silver ones. His nails bit into his palm as he stared.
She shivered as the wind swept across the lake.
He wanted to wrap her up and hide her away from everything, but he refused to look away. These were scars he’d played a role in. These were his to bear as much as hers. He saw a few still had stitches in place, and he ran his finger along them, ignoring the goosebumps he left in his wake. There were two where the skin had pulled open slightly, but the stitches were intact.
“They’re looking good,” he said, voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the silence of the night. “Better than I’d expect at this point. Could Chalia heal them? Eha has that magic.”
“She tried early on. She doesn’t know how to use that magic yet,” she said.
He grabbed the hem of her shirt where it sat on her neck, pulling it down and covering her back, gently turning her to look at him with a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m—” he stopped, mouth snapping closed before he started again. “I know I don’t have a right to be sorry, but I am. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but this?—”
“You weren’t the one holding the whip,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes.
“That doesn’t matter, and you know it,” he said. “I hesitated. I didn’t stop him immediately because I was afraid. I’ve always been afraid.”
His hand twitched, fist clenching and unclenching. She grasped his hand, holding it in her own, gentle fingers prying his fist open.
“I can’t tell you to stop being afraid,” she said. “I’m afraid constantly. Courage is acting despite the fear. It’s pushing through it even when it feels like it might kill you.”
“What if I don’t know how? I’ve only ever failed.”
She smiled. It was small and bitter. “I know a lot about failure. But Javi would remind me that acting and failing is better than not acting at all.”
He reached out without thinking, tracing a finger over her cheek, cupping her chin. He wanted to kiss her—he wanted…
“You have blood in your hair,” he said instead, fingers grazing a curl that left a trace of blood along her cheek.
“Shit,” she said, “I should wash it. Blood attracts nothing good out here.”
She looked over at the lake with a frown. The temperature was already dropping, and the lake would be freezing.
“Let me,” Fox said, and she looked back, an eyebrow raised. He only rolled his eyes, but helped her up. Fox found them a flat rockalong the shore that allowed them to sit next to the water without getting wet. “Lean back against me.”
Sofia watched him for a moment, as if waiting to see if he’d laugh or say he was just kidding, but he looked back at her seriously. She finally sat, and Fox arranged himself behind her, helping her lean back across his legs as he untied her braid and combed his fingers through her curls, brushing them out gently despite the snared hair and knots. He picked out the few branches that had wormed their way in and carefully splashed the water across the strands that were stained with blood. He kept his fingers gentle, pulling out a few knots as he found them, taking care not to splash her with the water or get too much of her hair wet.
The air cooled rapidly as the warm tones of sunset faded from the sky. They’d likely need to think of a fire soon.
“You know how to deal with curls,” she said, not a question.
“My mom’s hair is naturally curly. My father always wanted her to straighten it with a heated iron, but when she was just around the house, she’d leave it down. I watched her deal with it a lot when I was younger.”
She said nothing, and he nudged her to sit up, not letting her hair go. He made quick work of braiding it, fingers deft in their movements despite how many sun cycles it had been since he’d last braided his mother’s hair. And then he finished, laying the last strands gently against her back.
“Better?” he asked, his words soft. The night was so quiet. She looked back at him, her gaze searching.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
Her gaze shifted, turning heated. Fox felt his cock react, left hanging from their earlier interaction.
“Sofia…” he started.
The lake exploded in icy droplets, Chalia’s form bursting from the mirrored surface in a sudden shattering as she darted into the air. She spun, water cascading down her body and soaking Fox and Sofia in its wake.
“Shit!” Sofia cried, but she was laughing. It was nearly dark now,and the pale dragon glowed against the sky. Fox could only watch in awe.
