in her throat, “I don’t want this either. All I want is to go back to my planet. My home. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Female, you—”
“All I meant was that we don’t have to be at each other’s throats all the time. We can talk and it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Erin’s cheeks were burning when she was done. He’d embarrassed and hurt her with his words. All she wanted to do was turn her face away and pretend that he hadn’t.
Jaxor was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher.
Inhaling a slow, even breath to try to combat her racing heart, she softened her tone and said, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish stitching you up before you flood this whole cave with your blood.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer, his eyes darting back and forth between her own. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Erin didn’t know what he was looking for. She told herself she didn’t care. She told herself it didn’t matter that she had this strange connection with him. He would always be cold to her. She would always be wary of him.
Jaxor released the back of her neck and she immediately looked down at the gash. She felt his gaze on the top of her head. She imagined he was glaring at her.
A few moments later, he spoke, his voice quiet.
“I was raised in the Golden City. I was not exiled. I left willingly shortly after I completed warrior training.”
Erin’s hand stilled for a fraction of a moment. She swallowed and then made another stitch into his skin.
“It was after the Plague,” he added.
Erin didn’t look up at him. She had the odd sense that if she did, it would make him cold again.
“What made you leave?” she asked softly, leaning closer to his side.
“Too many things. Things I have no wish to speak of now.”
Erin recognized his words for what they were: an apology. An olive branch, even. It was probably the closest she’d ever come to an ‘I’m sorry’ from him.
“And you settled here,” she commented. “In the north.”
“Eventually,” he said.
“You lived somewhere else before here?”
He was hesitant now. “Tev.”
But he didn’t say where and Erin wouldn’t press him.
Baby steps, she thought.
“You must understand something, rixella,” he said, just as she reached the last stitch. She made it quickly, relieved that the wound was finally—mostly—closed, that the stitches were tight and clean.
Erin looked back up at Jaxor, despite her better judgment.
“I have lived here on my own for a long time. I have become accustomed to the silence of it and to my own way of life. I have my routines because they keep me sane. Most importantly, I do not trust anyone,” he said, those blues eyes burrowing into her. Even you, was what he implied. “What I am trying to say is that it has been a long time since I have simply talked for the sake of talking. I am not certain I know how anymore.”
Whatever Erin thought he was going to say…well, it hadn’t been that. It was a strangely vulnerable, somewhat heartbreaking confession.
Jaxor himself seemed surprised by the omission. He didn’t quite flush, but he made a deep sound in the back of his throat and looked down at the wound, at her handiwork.
Changing the subject, he noted, “You did well, female.” Then he added, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly, tucking an invisible strand behind her ear, only to realize, belatedly, that her fingers were covered in blood and it now smeared her cheek. “Um…can you stand? You should probably rinse the blood off in the rain before I put that salve on it.”
Her eyes sought out the clear pot. He’d used it yesterday on her foot, so she figured it couldn’t hurt.
Jaxor nodded and pushed off the cave wall, using it to keep himself steady as he rose. Erin dropped the needle and thread on the ground and followed him the short distance to the entrance. They both stepped out into the downpour together.
Erin tipped her face back to the rain, refusing to look at the kekevir below. Then she scrubbed at her hands, rinsing and rubbing off the last reminders of his blood. It had even gotten underneath her fingernails.
When she glanced over at Jaxor, his chest was clean of blood, though she knew it wouldn’t remain like that.
“Do you have any spare bandages?” she asked, raising