Nineteen
Walking quickly, I hoped to make it through the camp as soon as I could. Only a few people remained outside. They gave me unfriendly glares as I found the healer’s tent.
I stepped inside to find Kull sitting in front of the coals with his eyes closed. His hair was damp, and he wore a clean white peasant’s shirt with ties in the front and leather breeches. I knelt beside him and felt his forehead. Burning hot.
I tried to inspect his wound, but his shirt collar hid the injury, only giving me a view of the black mark along his neck. Puffy red skin bordered the gash. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“Arantha prepared a bath,” he said, “and she brought clothes.” He pointed to the room beyond the potion’s table.
“Kull,” I said, “when will you let me look at that wound?”
“Not here.”
“Why?”
He shook his head.
“You’ll die if you don’t—”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not. You don’t understand how dangerous dark magic can be. I hardly understand it, either, but I know what it can do to a person. To their mind.” And to my godson.
“We’ll make it to the Wultlands tomorrow. The healers will cure the malady once we arrive.”
“What makes you sure we’ll find the Wultlands?”
“We will,” he said.
“You’ll never make it. You’ll be dead tomorrow if you don’t let me look at it.”
“You lecture worse than Heidel.”
“Someone should.”
“Ha!” He flashed me his teeth. “All right. I’ll let you tend to my wound as soon as you tend to yours. I’ve had experience with injuries such as yours. You would be wise to let me repair it.”
Pain throbbed through my shoulder. I took a deep breath, knowing full well what I would be submitting myself to if I agreed. “If I let you, will you allow me to heal you?”
“Yes.”
My heart rate quickened as I imagined his hands on my shoulder, his body close to mine. I pushed those thoughts away. “Agreed. But I bathe first.” I headed for the other room when Kull stopped me.
“My sister?” he asked.
“Sorry, I never got a chance to ask. Geth was a bit brusque, to put it lightly.”
Kull cursed quietly. “I will find her. I will do whatever it takes to bring her back.”
“I understand.”
He nodded. The embers’ light cast his face in deep bronze, illuminating the dark circles under his eyes. I saw the tiredness, the sadness. It made me want to go to him, to comfort him, even with his callous attitude and overconfidence.
There was more to Kull that what appeared on the outside. He cared for his sister—that was obvious. He would do anything to protect her, to keep her safe.
Focusing on the damp blond hair that fell to his shoulders, his penetrating blue eyes, and his muscled torso, my heart fluttered, so I turned away.
I parted the curtain and entered the bathing chamber. This room was smaller than the first, although it also had a bed of coals flickering in a stone fire pit. A wooden bucket sat on a table with a sponge and a yellowed bar of soap beside it, and a stack of clothing sat on the floor beside a wooden stool.
I sighed. It was a humble situation, but it was better than nothing.
After sitting on the stool, I pulled off my boots. My socks stuck to my skin, and I had to peel them off. Pain shot through my shoulder as I removed my shirt. I finished undressing and tucked Peerling’s book under my clothes, hoping Geth didn’t come looking for it. I’d have to return the book as soon as I learned something useful. I kept the dream catcher tucked inside my coat.
As I sponged off, the water felt warmer than I’d expected. I washed my face, my neck, and my breasts, starting to feel female again. I carefully smoothed the sponge over my shoulder, cringing as I touched it. Kull had offered to look at my shoulder. Maybe I shouldn’t let him. He would probably make it worse.
Butterflies fluttered inside my stomach as my thoughts turned to Kull. I had to admit, he was attractive—in a brutish, masculine way. He was also devoted to his family—to the death, if need be. In a way, his devotion to his family surprised me. I knew Wult warriors were considered weak if they put familial responsibilities over their warrior duties. His tenderness to his family was uncommon in a man of his status.
I plunged the sponge into the water, wondering what was wrong with me. I shouldn’t be thinking about him in that way. I had a boyfriend, for goodness’ sake. Although in truth, I hadn’t thought about Brent once since I’d left Earth.
I’d never had any luck in the relationship department. Brent kept me around because no one else would, but I’d never felt anything for him, not really. Not the way I felt for Kull.
Kull.
Why couldn’t I get him out of my head? He was engaged, for goodness’s sake. And I was pretty sure I annoyed him way more than I attracted him.
It didn’t matter anyway. He would marry Euralysia, and I would go back to Earth. We could part ways as mutual acquaintances and never see one another again. And then I wouldn’t have to think about him anymore.
The thought brought a little joy, but it also made me feel as if I had a huge, gaping hole in the pit of my stomach. I had to get over this. He didn’t want me. I couldn’t have him, wasn’t even sure I wanted him. End of story.
I replaced the sponge and eyed the stack of clothing. I didn’t see a towel, so I dried off with a thick blanket and dressed in the white linen shirt and leather breeches with damp skin, which was a more difficult chore than I’d anticipated.
The shirt clung to my chest, and I realized that it did little to hide my black bra. So much for propriety. I grabbed up my soiled clothes—Peerling’s book and my dream catcher hidden inside them—and walked back into the main chamber. Feeling self-conscious, I kept the clothing close to my chest. Kull still sat by the fire. I turned my back to him as I placed my clothing on a table. Clearing my throat, I crossed my arms over my breasts and then knelt beside him.
He was looking at me. Not just looking, but staring—a primordial stare that exuded want and desire. I felt completely exposed, naked.
He turned away from me. Then, I noticed his eyes were rimmed in red and abnormally bright, the look of a raging fever. I placed my hand on his forehead. His skin scorched mine, hotter than it had been only a few minutes ago. “You’re getting worse.”
He turned to me. In his eyes, I saw the fever raging and knew his previous glance had meant nothing. He’d been feverish and nothing more. I’d mistaken a fever for lust.
I exhaled, tried to rearrange my brain chemistry as best I could, and pulled away from him. “You have to let me heal you.”
He shook his head. “Not until I take a look at your shoulder.”
“You’re in no shape to—”
He pressed a finger to my lips. “My turn first,” he whispered in a voice that sounded husky and seductive and made my previous vow to control my brain chemistry nearly impossible.
“All right,” was all I could manage.
He pulled my sleeve down low enough to expose my shoulder. I pressed my fists into my lap, my palms slick with sweat, and hoped he couldn’t hear my pounding heart.
Kull slid his finger under my bra strap, then lowered it off my shoulder. He placed his hands on my skin, right below my shoulder blade. I would have winced, but I found his hands warm and surprisingly gentle.
“Slightly dislocated. Not bad. But you should have taken care of it sooner.”
I couldn’t make my mouth work to answer.
He put one hand against my breastbone, the other to my back. I knew this would hurt, but the feelings of his hands on my skin drove away every thought in my head except one.
“Your heart’s pounding,” he said.
“I’m afraid you’ll hurt me,” I lied.
“You shouldn’t be.”
He moved his hand along my shoulder, working his way toward my spine. I felt
pressure as he bore down, but not pain. “Deep breath,” he whispered.
I inhaled and heard a pop. The throbbing stopped. I had expected pain but felt none. His hands remained on me for a moment as he peered into my eyes, but I avoided his gaze.
He’s feverish, Bill Clinton reminded me.
Kull moved away, and finally, I turned to him. “How did you do that? I didn’t feel anything.”
“Years of practice.”
“No, I still should have felt something. You have a talent for healing. Magic, even.”
His grin was subtle. “Not all healing requires magic.”
Maybe. Maybe not. “It’s my turn. Take off your shirt.” I tried to sound as stoic as possible.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” I added.
“So forward. I like that.” He untied the strings at his collar and pulled off his shirt.
I tried not to notice Kull’s naked torso, but the sight of him made my heart almost pound out of my chest. Sweat slicked my palms. I felt dizzy, light-headed, and shamefully wonderful. Was I swooning? I hadn’t swooned since my mom had taken me to that boy-band concert when I was fourteen. What was wrong with me?
He saw me looking at him. I expected some sort of smart remark about how all women had the same reaction I was having, but he kept his mouth shut.
I focused on the scar running along his neck and tried to ignore the way the fire reflected off his carved chest and shoulders. Tried to.
The wound ran from his neck down his back. The black gash slashed down his back muscles as if he’d been cut with a butcher’s knife and branched out, vein-like. I touched it gently, and the wound writhed.
I held my hand over the gash, letting its magic flow inside me. I searched for signs of goblin magic but found none. The foreign enchantment tingled through my fingers and into my arms, my abdomen, making my stomach turn. I knew this magic, but barely. The Regaymor’s magic.
Whatever the Regaymor were, they didn’t use magic from this realm or from Earth. They were creatures of darkness, a taint that sucked life away slowly, that infected the mind as well as the body, controlling it, overpowering it. I cursed under my breath. This was worse than I’d thought.
“Can you remove it?” Kull asked.
I hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
He turned to me, his eyes bright with fever, and took my hand. The warmth of his fingers reassured me. “I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I do.”
I exhaled, focusing on the wound. Kull sounded sincere. He shouldn’t have. “Why?” I asked.
“Because you’re a fighter. You’re strong in battle, but even stronger in magic. You have talents that some would kill for. You could make the world kneel at your feet if you realized your own power.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger before he pulled away. His voice softened. “And because you’re beautiful.”
Beautiful?
“And you’re delirious.”
“Perhaps.” He blinked once, slowly, as if trying to remain conscious.
“You should lie down.”
“Yes.”
I helped him settle on the blankets, careful to rest him on his side so he wouldn’t lie on the wound. He smelled of leather and sandalwood, a scent that calmed my frantic thoughts. As he closed his eyes, his breathing became labored. His cheeks matched the flames in the coal bed.
I tried to move away from him, but he caught my hand. “What I said—it’s true.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Kull, half the things you said don’t make sense.”
“No,” he argued.
I pried his hand away from mine. “Just get some rest.”
“Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because your fever is speaking. Not you. You’re in love with someone else. And I’m not any of those things you just said. I’m broken inside, and hurt, and weak, and…” I couldn’t finish; I’d said too much already. I couldn’t love anyone—not that way, not ever. That’s why I needed Brent. I felt comfortable with him. He wouldn’t break my heart the way Kull would break it if I let him.
Sitting behind him, I rested my chin in my hands. A knot formed in my throat. Part of me wanted this to be real, but mostly I felt relieved that it wasn’t. When Kull’s breathing turned rhythmic, I leaned closer to his wound.
I knew what to do.
He wouldn’t live much longer like this, so I would take the poison into my own body. It was the only way to save him. A small, scalpel-type knife sat amidst the potions, and I removed it from the shelf.
The copper blade glimmered as I sterilized it in the fire. I waited for it to cool before making the first incision.
Dreamthief Page 25
