on me.
Reule is still waiting in the bedroom—likely his bedroom. His eyes go straight to the small amount of skin on my thighs visible between the shirt and the socks, and he actually groans. It’s extremely satisfying, but I pretend to be oblivious.
I’m not really sure what happens next. I’ve eaten, bathed, and I’m not in critical danger of getting hypothermia anymore. Am I just supposed to follow Reule around and wait to see what he’s going to do with me? My smile slowly falters as my anxiety rises again. And then my heart practically leaps out of my chest when Reule steps in front of me and places his fingers on my chin, tilting my head to the side.
When his thumb brushes over my throat where I was bitten by Thaddeus’s lackey, I let out a small gasp of pain. The area’s still a little sore and bruised, but it seems to be healing okay. Normally, vampires can heal their victims’ bites with their saliva to stop excessive bleeding when they’re just trying to feed rather than kill. My bite has had to heal naturally, and I’m sure it hasn’t helped that I haven’t been able to clean it until now.
Reule grunts quietly, clearly displeased. But I checked the wound in the bathroom, and I’m confident enough that the wound is healing properly. It doesn't look puffy or infected, at least. He picks me up without warning and sits me on the edge of the bed so my feet are dangling over the side. I barely have time to blink before I find him kneeling on the floor in front of me, and my cheeks flush. My hormones are already on overdrive for some ungodly reason, so seeing him like this is sending all sorts of naughty, unwanted thoughts straight to my brain.
His hand grips my left ankle gently, and I cry out before I manage to bite my tongue and slap my hand over my mouth. Reule frowns up at me, mumbling something softly that I’m sure is an apology. With the tenderest touch possible, he slowly pulls the sock down my left leg and off of my foot. He touches different parts of my ankle, and I hiss quietly every time I feel a twinge of pain. I know he’s not trying to hurt me, and it seems like he might know a little something about healing. I’m impressed he even noticed I was injured since I was trying to hide it, and he’s spent much of our time together holding me or carrying me around.
After several minutes of testing the injury, he sighs and sits back on his heels. He stares up at me sadly, and I wonder what he’d say to me right now if he could. Instead of speaking, he lets out a short breath and stands up, motioning for me to stay put as he makes his way out of the room.
He returns quickly, holding all sorts of supplies in his hands. First, he hangs an old-fashioned-looking tea kettle on a little hook over the fire, and sets a mug on top of the dresser. I’m feeling like a pretty useless damsel in distress when he kneels in front of me again.
My whole life, I’ve always taken care of myself and Alistair. I’m not used to being helped so much, or of even needing this much help with anything. Being in this situation is terrifying and bizarre, but something about Reule makes me feel so…safe. There’s something nice about being coddled like this. It’s like I can set all of my worries aside for a little bit while he takes charge.
Reule holds up a bottle and pours out this weird-looking green paste into his hand. He flicks his gaze up to meet my eyes and gives me a rueful smile, and begins rubbing the pasty stuff all over my ankle. I grit my teeth and try not to move or react. It hurts a little, but mostly it feels super tingly—like that feeling you get when your foot falls asleep. Once most of my foot and ankle is covered in the stuff, Reule wraps a white bandage all around the area.
As soon as he’s finished, he carefully helps me pull my sock back on. And then he freaking kisses the top of my foot and grins up at me. It might actually be the most adorable thing ever, and I’m fucking swooning over this guy. I can’t help giggling, and he seems extra