“They’re flowers in the human realm. They have a strong scent.”
I nodded. “I know what roses are, just not what they taste like.”
“I don’t either, but that tastes like roses smell,” she stated. “It’s not bad. Just unexpected.”
I focused on putting away the unused bandages and the bottles of tinctures, leaving out the needle since it would need to be cleaned and sterilized again. Once I was done, I picked up both the box and her ruined shirts.
“Do you need help to the bathing room?” I asked her.
Leda shook her head. “I think I’m okay. I’m not going to take a bath or shower. Just clean off the sweat, blood, and dirt.”
I straightened and stepped back, allowing her to stand. She seemed steady on her feet, so I backed further away. Her first few steps toward the bathing room were tentative, but she quickly found her footing and walked across the room. As she reached for the shirt I’d lent her before, I realized she needed a clean one.
“Let me get you a fresh shirt,” I offered. “There is no need for you to wear the same one.”
“If it’s no trouble, I would appreciate that. The nightclothes you got for me are lovely, but the sleeves are tight enough to rub against the bandages.”
I hurried to my wardrobe and pulled out another simple cotton shirt. This one lacked a collar or buttons. The sleeves were loose from shoulder to wrist. It was old and nearly threadbare, but the softest I owned. I would cut the sleeves off for her so they wouldn’t get in the way of her hands when she wore it.
When I walked into the bathing room, I stopped short. Leda stood at the sink with her back to me, hot water filling the basin in front of her. She had removed her undergarment and was carefully washing her chest and abdomen. There were strange black markings down the length of her spine, and the drawingof a thorny vine covered in lush flowers emerged from the band of her trousers and curved around her waist to the front of her body.
I swallowed hard, locking down every muscle in my body. She was bare and in the same room. My mating instincts were screaming that she’d fought for the right to claim me, which meant I belonged to her. The primal urge to prove that she belonged to me throbbed in my blood. Seeing so much of her skin for the first time made that urge even worse.
I took a deep breath and released it.
I was stronger than my instincts.
I controlled my body.
I was not going to make her uncomfortable or frighten her. I was going to ensure she was clean, free of pain, and make sure that she rested.
When she finished cleaning her front, Leda glanced over her shoulder and saw me. Instead of yelling at me to get out, she surprised me. “Can you wash off my back, please?” she asked. “I can’t reach, and I can feel dirt on my skin there.”
I came forward, setting the shirt on the counter next to the sink. A folded towel was on the same counter in front of her. She picked it up and held it in front of her bare torso.
I kept my gaze away from her body as I reached for the cloth in the sink. After the cloth was wrung out, I moved behind her. It would take several passes and rinsing the cloth before her skin was free of dirt.
To distract myself, I asked, “What are these markings on your back?”
Her bowed head turned a bit so she could watch me out of the corner of her eye. “Tattoos. They’re drawn with ink and needles.” She turned her head back, her eyes closing. “Your tattoos are very pretty, by the way.”
“Those are brands. They’re burned into my skin with magic.”
She shivered a little as I wiped the cloth down the bumps of her spine. “That sounds painful.”
“So do needles and ink being jabbed into your skin.”
She huffed out a soft laugh. “Touché.”
“My brands denote my accomplishments as a daemon. Are your tattoos the same?”
“Yes and no. Some people get tattoos just because they like them. Others do it because they have memories they never want to forget. I’m in a different group. My tats mean something to me, but they’re not related to a memory. They’re to remind me to be strong, resilient, and that there is beauty in the world.”
I continued to wash the dirt and blood from her skin as I spoke. “Does everyone in the human realm have tattoos?”
She shook her head again. “No. A lot of people do, but not everyone. What about daemons?”
“It’s common practice. Those without a single brand are often outcasts or undesirable to daemons looking for mates.”
