Page 118 of Wraithwound

“I took a boost in the last realm. It numbs pain,” Cross said as he stood slowly and turned to face her.

“Is it wearing off?” she asked.

“I can make it a while still. What direction?” he asked. It didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t answer the question.

“One second,” she said, reaching for her pack to pull out her blouse.

It was probably a good idea to don more layers, given how fragile human skin was compared to the dangers they’d faced so far. But after a moment of fumbling with the buttons, she’d only managed to slice a hole into the light fabric. Lena huffed in frustration.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Trying to put my shirt back on so I can wear the vest, but the buttons are so small. I’ve never had long nails before; if you’re healing wounds or mulling herbs— they just get in the way.” She rambled on, “And now, the only thing I’ve managed to do is slice through the fabric.”

Lena peered down, glaring at the tiny buttons when Cross’s large frame entered her field of vision.

“Can I help?” he asked, his voice like a caress. Lena’s heart skipped.

“Oh . . . sure, here. There are five,” Lena said, guiding his hands to her blouse.

“I remember,” he said, a smile kicking up on one side of his mouth.

He felt for the first one and slowly worked it into the corresponding buttonhole. Lena’s heart leapt in her chest as his scent enveloped her. She peered into his face, taking in the handsome set of his jaw and the dark lashes that framed his blue eyes. When he was done, his hands lingered at her sternum for a moment.

“There, I think that’s all of them.”

Lena swallowed, wondering what might happen if they were elsewhere and he were to unbutton her shirt instead. She cleared her throat to chase the thought away and slipped her arms into the vest, finding the larger buckles easier to fasten.

“I think it’s best if you’re armed too. I won’t be able to react to threats as quickly. Here,” he said, reaching for one of the daggers sheathed at his thigh.

“Wait,” she said, rummaging around for the weapon Eduard had given her. The sight of it brought forth feelings of sadness and regret but also an understanding of how much they cared for her. She reached for his hand and placed it in his palm. “I have a small dagger.”

He ran his fingers over the leather sheath, finding the loop at the top. Then, he unbuckled one of the straps at his arm.

“May I?” he asked, sinking to one knee.

“Uh, yes,” she replied, a flush creeping up her neck.

Lena guided his hands toward her thigh where he fastened the dagger. She shivered at his touch, heat blooming low in her stomach as she looked down at him kneeling before her. It shouldn’t surprise her that he could fasten buttons and strap on armor in the dark.

“That’s better,” he said, straightening. “Which direction are we headed in?”

The terrain changed as they continued. The trees became even more sparse while the stone structures that resembled strange columns grew in number. Despite this, the moss persisted, hanging from the stone structures or on hearty bushes that grew from the cracks. Butterflies burst off the stones toward them anytime they walked too close. The sound prompted them to duck, Cross opting to tuck her into his side to shield her from the assault. When she truly felt like she couldn’t take another step, she squeezed Cross’s hand.

“I’m not sure how much farther I can go,” she admitted.

It was almost strange to think that a prior version of her would have never admitted those words out loud, opting instead to push through despite the consequences.

“Okay. Start looking for shelter. Tell me what you see,” he instructed.

Lena described their surroundings, but there wasn’t much nearby until she spotted a stone structure that turned out to be a cave. It had a narrow opening, which Cross explained would be easier to guard. Inside it was wide enough to accommodate them both.

Lena instructed Cross to sit so she could tend to the wounds on his back. He did as she bade, removing his armor before he sat and exposed the muscles of his tanned back and the crystals embedded up his spine. She couldn’t help but stare at them, wondering how they’d been inserted into his skin. While the gouges on his back weren’t as bad as the ones that had almost claimed his life near the Drowning Woods, the creature’s claws had ripped out a number of the crystal shards. He didn’t protest as she went to work, falling into a familiar rhythm of assessing, cleaning, and dressing each wound.

Her pulse picked up every time her fingers grazed his skin, the muscles in his back tensing and releasing as she worked. When she was done dressing his injuries, her eyes wandered back to the crystals.

“What—what are these?” she asked, daring to run her fingers over one of the smooth glassy pieces.

“It’s, uh, part of the process,” he said.