“I try to think ahead.”
He flew her slowly to the bathroom. “For what I want to do, we’ll need to dry off first.” He landed by the arched doorway, formed of more rounded stones.
She led the way and grabbed two towels then tossed one in his direction.
His gaze was fixed to her breasts. The witch poison scars formed spider webs over her entire chest, up into her neck, and well down her abdomen. The torture, thank God, hadn’t gone to her sex. Braden and his team from Maeve’s compound in Elegance Territory had rescued Kiara. He could tell by the nature of the scars that like him, she’d come close to death that night.
She turned to face him as she continued to dry off. “It’s okay if you look.”
He lifted his gaze to hers. He wouldn’t apologize for staring. Because of the scarring on his head, face and neck, he knew it took time for people to get accustomed. He was doing the same.
A sudden, overwhelming rage rose swiftly. Not toward her, but against those who’d done this to her. He despised this part of living in Five Bridges.
She moved swiftly to him and planted both hands on his chest. “Don’t. I can see your fury. But I don’t want that from you right now.” She stroked the fur that had risen on his chest. He could feel the fur on his cheeks as well.
She continued, “I want you here, sexing me up, not enraged at the witches already executed for their crimes.”
Even his muzzle had started to form. He couldn’t help what he felt. Give me a minute.
He dropped slowly to his knees and with his wolf tongue licked the scars on her stomach. He followed the star-like, silvery paths, tasting the pain she’d endured. He closed his eyes and traveled along each streak, up her chest, over her breasts, then to the lowest points near her sex.
Kiara whimpered, a very wolf-like sound. He recognized it as a precursor to grief-howling. I wanted my body perfect for you, Warren.
Having tracked each scar, he’d grown calmer. He rose slowly to his feet. His fur had disappeared as well as his wolf-muzzle. “Your body is perfect, just as it is.”
She smoothed her hand along the scars of his face and touched his scarred eye. Warmth flowed from the tips of her fingers and he felt her healing ease along the damaged tissue. At first it was a gentle sensation that became something more. To his shock, he could feel the skin closest to his eye begin to reform and to draw back.
He blinked. Some of the old scar tissue had given way.
He touched the area gently and his heart rate sky-rocketed. He could open his eye, not all the way, but almost. Dammit, he could see from both eyes again.
He met her gaze and stared at her. “How did you do that?”
Her own large brown eyes had widened. “Warren, I can see both of your eyes. But I don’t know what I did. I was in the moment and my healing ignited. I think I felt some of your storm power flowing along my arms. It’s possible we did this together.”
“I can’t believe it,” he said, still touching his eye. He kept blinking then looking around.
“What’s your vision like?”
He moved from looking at the bathroom sink to the wall opposite with an exquisite mosaic of small, jewel-like tiles, to the stone floor. “It’s different and I’ll have to adjust, but I can see.” The scars weren’t completely gone by any means. But after eight years, he could see from both his eyes.
The dark witch poison hadn’t allowed for any real healing afterward. Many witches had strong healing powers, but none of the ones he’d trusted to make the attempt had ever helped him.
He focused on Kiara. Who was this woman?
Tears touched her cheeks. “Your eyes are so beautiful. A deep, vivid green.”
He couldn’t believe this had happened. She’d brought him into her very wolf-like burrow, into a waterfall pool she’d created then into her body. Now she’d given him a kind of healing that would be a blessing the rest of his alter life.
His entire body warmed to her. Only it went deeper, tracking through the depths of his soul and spirit. Who was this woman, this witch, this beauty with her brown hair to her waist, her soulful dark eyes, and strong cheekbones?
He searched her eyes wanting to know her in ways he’d never wanted to know an alter woman before. He planted a hand on her chest between her breasts. “Who are you?”
She drew in a sudden breath, not quite a gasp but close. She arched her neck. “Warren, what are you doing?”
“Touching you.”
She met his gaze. “No. It’s more. Be careful, Warren. You have my heart in your hands, literally, and you could crush it.”