“Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“Because I don’t have the right to ask any of them for anything,” she said between sobs, turning her face away. “It’s fine. I can do it. I just need a minute.”
But Aren didn’t let go of her wrists and held them steady as he bent to examine her injury. “It’s deep.”
“Once I stitch it, it will be okay.”
“By the time you finish stitching, you’ll have bled to death.” He released her wrists. “I’ll do it.”
“You don’t—” She broke off, the look on his face silencing her protest.
Finding some soap, he washed his hands in a basin, and she took this moment of distraction to watch him. To memorize his face. This was the first time they’d been alone together since their trek to Valcotta. And for all she knew, it could be the last.
“You need to stop doing this.”
“Doing what?” she asked, though she knew what he meant.
“Throwing yourself into harm’s way.” He scrubbed hard at his skin, washing away dirt and the blood of his enemies. “It won’t change anything other than eventually getting you killed.” His voice went hoarse as he said killed, and Lara’s chest tightened.
“Taryn’s alive. She’s free. That’s something.”
“It doesn’t negate the fact that you caused her to be taken prisoner in the first place.” His hands stilled. “It doesn’t change how everyone thinks of you.”
As a liar. As a traitor. As the enemy. Pulling her gaze from Aren’s hands, Lara stared at the blood welling up from the gash on her leg and fought to suppress the hiccups from her bout of tears. “I’m not trying to change the way everyone thinks of me. I know that will never happen.”
“Why, then?” His voice was angry. “Trying to get yourself killed?”
“No.” Her throat tightened. “Trying to find a way to live with myself.”
She sensed rather than saw him lift his head. Felt his scrutiny as he asked, “Is it working?”
Closing her eyes, Lara focused on the pain in her leg, trying to drown out the pain in her heart. “Not yet.”
Aren’s boots made soft thuds as he circled the table, and a tremble tore through Lara’s body as he took hold of her leg, his hands warm against her naked skin.
“Do you want something to bite down on?”
She shook her head, pressing her forehead against the table as he pulled the lantern closer. She clenched her hands into fists as he picked up the needle, the tug of the thread sending bites of pain lancing up her thigh. “Just do it.”
Her words were nothing but bravado, a sob tearing from her lips as Aren delved into the wound, drawing her flesh together, her self-control fracturing with each pass of the needle. She clawed at the table, her body shuddering so hard the light from the lantern danced wildly.
At some point, she passed out, coming to and finding Aren’s bloody hands resting on her leg. Sweat beaded on his brow and his eyes were red. “Worst is over,” he muttered, then he rethreaded the needle, pulling her skin together for another layer of stitches. “Given the amount of grief you gave me for so much as flinching every time you stitched me up, you’re handling this rather poorly.”
She gasped out a laugh. “I hate stitches. I’d rather be stabbed than stitched up.”
“You’re being a baby. It’s not that bad.”
“Asshole.” But their eyes met, and the look in his chased away her pain. This was hurting him as much as it was hurting her. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for saving my cousin.”
One victory in a sea of loss, but the tension in Lara’s chest still eased.
He finished her stitches, wrapping a length of bandage around her leg and knotting it with a practiced hand. Sitting upright, Lara slid off the table onto her feet, but a wave of dizziness made her sway, and she reached out instinctively to catch hold of his shoulders.
She expected him to push her away, but instead his hands slipped around her waist, holding her steady. And though Lara knew she shouldn’t, she rested her forehead against his chest, feeling the heat of him through his clothes.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood.” His voice was low, breath warm against her ear. “You need to rest.”
He was right, but she was afraid to show any weakness. Afraid that they’d leave her behind if she was no longer any use to them. That she’d lose her chance to atone. “I’ll be fine.”
“Lara—”
“I just need something to eat and drink.” Her knees were wobbling, betraying her. “Please don’t leave me behind. Please let me fight.”
“You can barely stand.”
“Please,” she choked out. “I know I have no right to ask anything from you, but please don’t take away my chance to see this through. I have to make him pay. I have to force him out of Ithicana. I have to. If I don’t—”
Aren’s fingers flexed slightly where they gripped her, as if he knew what she’d left unsaid. He understood her like no one else ever had. “We’re not going anywhere until morning,” he finally answered. “We’ll see how you are then.”
Exhaling a shuddering breath, Lara nodded into his chest, waiting for him to step away from her and go back to the others. But Aren didn’t drop his hands. Didn’t turn his back on her. Instead he pulled her closer, his fingers sliding under the hem of her ruined camisole, stroking the small of her back.
Lara’s heart accelerated, the fog of blood loss and exhaustion receding, her focus sharpening as her breasts pressed against him. Her hips. She slid her arms around his neck, his hair brushing against her bare forearms and sending a shiver through her body even as fear reared its head. Fear that this was a trick or a delusion, and that if she moved, she’d shatter the dream and he’d be gone.
But she refused to allow fear to rule her, and so Lara looked up.
Aren’s eyes were closed, but she could see the rapid flutter of the pulse in his throat. Could feel the raggedness of his breath against her cheek as he lowered his face, one hand sliding up her body to tangle in her hair.
His lips a hair’s breadth from hers, he whispered, “Awake or asleep, all I see is your face. All I hear is your voice. All I feel is you in my arms. All I want is you.”
Lara was trembling. Or he was. She couldn’t tell. Not when it seemed the world was tilting, her body aching in a way that had nothing to do with the injury to her leg. “Aren—”
His lips silenced her, mouth closing over hers with a fierceness that made her knees buckle, only his arm around her waist keeping her upright as his tongue chased over hers, tearing a gasp from her throat. She clung to his neck as he devoured her, teeth scraping over her jaw, catching the lobe of her ear, biting at her throat.
In one swift motion, he pulled her camisole over her head and tossed it aside, his hands encircling her ribs, then rising to cup her breasts. He pushed her back against the table, eyes dark with desire as they raked over her nearly naked body.
Lara gripped the table for balance, watching as he tugged his tunic over his head, revealing the tanned skin and hard lines of his chest, his body somehow more perfect for the scars that marked it.