airbrushed, underneath a few streaks of dirt. His jaw is strong, and his features incredibly masculine. His cheekbones are more prominent than they would be if he was being fed regularly, but I can already see the effects of my blood in the healthy flush of his sage-green skin.
“You’re staring,” he observes, calling me out, even though he hasn’t cracked a lid since his skin went all sponge like.
“You’re pretty much in my face, so what choice do I have?” I counter. “Besides, you’re nice to look at,” I confess, and his eyes snap open.
Golden orbs soak me in, and I’m not sure what to do. Does that kind of comment irritate him? Make him anxious? Excite him?
It’s hard to say one way or the other. We stare at each other for a beat, neither of us looking away to search for the right mask to hide behind. We just sit in the moment, absorbing the vulnerability and intimacy that strangely threads through us as my blood soaks into his skin and revitalizes whatever he is.
“I’m sorry you’re in here, Sable,” he finally tells me, his voice quiet, like he doesn’t want to let Medley in on this moment.
I trace the curve of his lashes with my eyes and think about his words. “I’m not,” I admit. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to eviscerate Morax for what he’s done to us, and I’ll never look at tweezers or steak knives the same again, but aside from that, I’ve gained so much from being in here, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
Toreon studies me like he’s searching my face for any hints that I somehow mean something different from what I’m saying, but he won’t find it. I wish I wasn’t locked in the dungeon and at the mercy of some evil creature’s plans, but I discovered that I’m not crazy, that I have family, and that I have purpose. And those are lifelines that I will never let go of for anything.
I have hope that we’ll get out of here, and I may not know what will happen with any of these so-called mates when I do, but it’s all worth fighting for. Besides, I know a thing or two about surviving pain.
“You can be the badass for now, but just wait until I get out of here and I’m healed up. I’ll give you a run for your money then,” Toreon teases, the tone and words themselves taking me by surprise.
I smile, and I don’t miss that his golden gaze traces the curve of my lips as they tilt up with amusement. “You finally admitting to yourself that we’re going to get out of here?” I ask.
His eyes flick back up to mine. “I’m finally hoping I will.”
His admission and the look in his eyes as it spills out between us is anything but teasing. There’s no flirtatious tone or joking lilt. It’s heavy with seriousness, and oddly enough, I’m not intimidated at all by it.
“Good,” I answer, my voice lower than before. Clearing my throat, I pull away my now healing cut from his shoulder. I reach out with my other hand, the one I cupped to catch the blood pouring from my wound, and press my catch against his chest, right over where his heart should be.
My eyes stay on his, the moment unquestionably intimate. Blood spills out, pressing between my fingers and his warm skin, and I wait for him to absorb it all. I feel a steady beat against my palm and find myself eager to see him healthy and whole again.
We don’t say another word as the blood disappears from our skin as it’s absorbed by his body. My fingers tap lightly against his chest, and it takes more willpower than I would’ve expected to drop my hand. As soon as I do, the private moment between us snaps, and I push away from him to get back to work with Medley. I have work to do. I’m ready to see what life looks like outside of these bars. For all of us.
15
“You’re almost there,” I encourage, trying not to sound too excited and mess with Medley’s concentration. “That’s it, keep pushing small amounts of the darkness around that smudge in your head that Morax’s power left. Keep pushing until the blackness blots it out.”
Sweat drips down Medley’s brow, but her hand moves even closer to her scythe. She’s inches away, and she’s been fighting for every centimeter, but she’s so close