Leda took a slow breath and released it. Taking that as her acceptance, I made the first stitch.
Sweat broke out on my brow as I closed the four deepest wounds. The rest weren’t as bad and had already stopped bleeding. Leda’s breath caught more than once as I worked, but she remained still and calm.
I hated the sight of the needle piercing her skin. The scent of her blood and sweat. Her sweet, lemony scent was slightly sour from the pain and fear she experienced during the fight and after.
As I finished the final stitches, I knew that, if she had been killed by Venna, I would have struck the daemoness down. I would have been lost to rage and the madness of losing the female my soul wanted to claim as my mate. I would have torn her apart with my bare hands.
“I need to look at your other arm,” I stated, keeping my voice quiet and calm. I hoped she didn’t hear how it shook.
“Okay.”
Her agreement was weaker, but her body was still relaxed. She remained so as I washed her other arm. This one was much less damaged. There was only one scratch that went from her shoulder, down the side of her arm, all the way to her elbow. It wasn’t deep enough for stitches, but it was long and still covered with blood.
“I am sorry, Leda, but we need to remove your shirt. This cut goes all the way up to your shoulder.”
She winced as she tried to sit up, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to help her. Leda looked down at the sweater she wore over her shirt. “I hate to destroy one of my new outfits, but it might be best to cut these off. I’m not sure I can lift my arms over my head.”
“May I?” I asked, lifting my clawed hand.
She released a quiet laugh. “I guess they’re handy for something, huh? Yeah. Just don’t cut me up any more than I already am.”
“Will you give me your back? I think it will be easier to remove the garments that way.”
Leda didn’t answer. She just turned her back toward me, trusting me to care for her. Trusting me when she was weakened and vulnerable. My hands were careful as I used my claw to slice down the back of the sweater she wore. Then, I did the same for the shirt.
The material parted to reveal the straps of the undergarment I purchased for her earlier that day. Before I could offer her aid, Leda tugged the fabric of her sweater and shirt away from her injured shoulder and freed her arm from the remnants of the sleeve. Though she flinched and paled, she reached up and did the same with the other arm.
Leda dropped the garments on the floor in front of the sofa, leaving her in the tiny piece of clothing she called abra. I averted my eyes from the smooth, soft skin she displayed and reached for the blanket on the back of the couch. I tried to drape it over her, but she shook her head.
“I don’t want to get blood on it. Once you clean and dress my wound, I’m going to wash up and change into your shirt.”
“Very well,” I agreed.
My eyes wanted to wander over her body and take in every curve and detail, but I reminded myself that she was hurt, and the urge disappeared. Her safety, her comfort, her healing—those things were more important than my curiosity and desire. Always.
It took much less time to clean and dress the scratch on her upper arm. She finally relaxed after I finished wrapping her arm. I reached into the box and took out another tincture. This one was meant to be dripped beneath the tongue.
“This will help with the pain,” I explained. “When I realized you were staying, I asked Masu to find out if it would be safe for you. She assured me that it is as long as you only take a drop or two.”
Her gaze grew wary. “Do you know how it will affect me?”
“It will stop your pain,” I answered, confused by her question. I thought I had already explained what it was for.
“On Earth, pain medication can often make us sleepy or act silly or drunk. I would prefer not to take anything that will render me unconscious.”
“It has never had that effect on daemons. If it does anything, it makes us calm.”
She nodded. “Calm doesn’t sound too bad.”
I removed the dropper from the bottle. “I need to place a drop or two beneath your tongue.”
She opened her mouth, tilting her head back, and lifted up her tongue. Being careful not to squeeze too hard, I let two small drips fall into her mouth. Leda made a strange face when she closed her lips and lowered her chin.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It tastes like roses,” she answered.
“Roses?”
