Page 64 of Wraithwound

Oh.

“Wait, does that mean that Kharon—?” she started to ask, but her voice trailed off once she saw the smile disappear from Cross’s face.

“She matched us before she died. I think she knew I would swear my oath and paired me with him. He’s . . . different. It was the last thing she did.”

And the last gift she ever gave me, he seemed to say.

It was no wonder Kharon was so important to him. It was true that most riders developed a special connection with their horses, but she’d sensed their relationship was different somehow, deeper, and she’d been right. Lena thought of his mother and what it must have been like to have the person you love try to change you.

“How do you think she was able to make that choice?” Lena asked, wondering if he’d been talking about his own father.

“She understood that love helps you burn brighter. It doesn’t try to contain or break your spirit,” he said.

Lena took in his face, the full lips, strong nose, and striking eyes, and wondered if he’d taken after her or his father. She had a feeling she knew the answer.

She considered the story he’d told her and figured she had also been caged in a sense, trapped by the circumstances that would allow the infection to eat away at her until there was nothing left. But as long as she had control, as long as she still had agency, she could make choices within those confines.

Wasn’t that what Cross was doing with her? Dutybound to protect his sworn enemy, he too was navigating their tenuous pairing within the restrictions set by his oath. Another cage of sorts, except she knew what was likely to happen after he met the terms, and she was still a wraith.

“Do you think you’re ready to go in the tub?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

Lena reached over and slipped her hand into the cool water. It felt refreshing. She nodded.

He lifted her with strong arms and gently lowered her into the tub. She was vaguely aware that her soaked clothing left little to the imagination, but Cross didn’t so much as glance at her body.

Once she was submerged, he left the bathing room and returned with fresh clothes and a glass of water that he placed in her hand. Lena tried not to think of the implications of him doing so. Where this gesture used to signify a person’s commitment to nurturing a romantic relationship and a promise that their love would flow freely to the other person, Lena had to remind herself he had a family. And it was unlikely soulbounds subscribed to the same beliefs and customs attached to the sanctity of water and the role it played in courting.

According to the old customs, to offer someone water was to offer them life, although it wasn’t as simple as handing someone a glass of water. The ritual entailed using a special crystal vessel and a gesture of mutual understanding and agreement. Not many still practiced, but her grandfather had courted her grandmother that way, and Lena had loved the symbolism in it. Cross turned to leave but stopped just short of the door.

“Even if you weren’t working to help him, the one you thought you’d lost, even if you had nothing else, no one else, you’d have you. You are enough. Your life matters. Don’t be so quick to give up on it,” he said and strode out.

Lena’s throat closed up, and her eyes filled with tears that spilled into the water around her. She did want to live. Badly. And not just for Henry but for herself too. What she wouldn’t do, or grant the wraith the opportunity to do, was kill.

Cross returned a short time later to help her out of the bath. Lena didn’t tell him she’d tried to stand up on her own a few moments prior and failed. She was still in her soaked clothes and just the thought of the effort it would take to peel her shirt and pants off was enough to make her think she’d prefer to sleep in them.

“Do you think you can change on your own?” he asked, assuming the same business-like tone he’d taken when he helped her with the wound on her back from the Nychtyra.

Exhaustion and self-consciousness warred within her as she reluctantly accepted the truth.

“No,” she admitted. Despite having cooled down significantly with the application of the damp cotton cloth and the bath, her muscles ached fiercely, and she couldn’t stop trembling.

“All right,” he said, reaching under her arms and helping her to stand. Lena struggled to step out of the tub and had to rely on Cross’s strength to stay upright. She stood, like a drowned cat, staring up at him, a flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. But this time it wasn’t due to the heat of a blazing fire.

She wasn’t sure if it was the shivers that racked her body, but she could have sworn her skin tingled everywhere her body met his.

“Can you hold onto me?” he asked softly.

Lena nodded. Cross lifted the dripping fabric of her shirt slightly before hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her pants and pulling them down her legs. Lena couldn’t help but stare at the crystals embedded in his muscled back as he did. Once he’d ensured she’d be able to maintain her balance, he helped her step out of the pants.

“How would you like me to get your shirt off?” he asked, arms locked around her waist to keep her from collapsing.

“I can sit on the bed,” she offered.

Cross hooked an arm under her legs and swept her up into him as he carried her to the end of the bed. A heady mix of cedar and vanilla combined with his own personal scent filled her nose. It was a scent she was familiar with after having borrowed his tunic. She breathed it in, the scent stirring something deep within her.

Once seated at the bottom of the bed, she offered him the hem of her shirt and lifted her arms to assist him with his task. He peeled the shirt off her body, making sure to turn his head as he did. Afterwards, he retrieved the dry clothes from the bathing chamber and left her to pull those on. Luckily, dressing in dry clothes required a lot less effort than pulling off wet ones.

“You need sleep,” he said.