“Ah, no. Thanks,” I replied.
Hovering by the door, she shifted her weight and said, “At breakfast the other day, I saw the bruises on your neck. I can heal them if you want.”
“I’m fine.” I had no interest in anyone using their abilities on me and certainly not touching me.
“They have to be tender.” Anstice paused. “I promise, healing doesn’t hurt.”
I’d heard that before—it always hurt. “I’d rather not.”
I heard booted footsteps come down the hallway and I looked past Anstice’s shoulder to see Kilter. He scowled, but then that was pretty much a permanent thing, so it didn’t give me any indication as to whether he was mad or not.
“Let her heal you, babe.”
Anstice said, “It’s okay, Kilter. She doesn’t have to—”
“Yeah, she does.” His eyes locked on mine and I crossed my arms as if to shield myself from his intense gaze. It didn’t work.
I raised my chin and said, “I don’t want her to.”
There was a hint of a lip twitch at the right side of his mouth and his furrowed brows lifted. “Anstice, give us a minute,” Kilter ordered.
“Umm, yeah, sure.” She half-smiled at me before walking back down the hall. Kilter strode in, forcing me back, then kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot.
“I need you to do this.”
He stalked toward me and I backed up until my legs hit the end of the bed. He stopped inches away.
“It’s important.” He raised his hand to my neck, his knuckles tracing the bruises. It was so gentle I barely felt it. “She can heal these. In minutes, they’ll be gone.”
His eyes lifted from my neck and came back to mine. The black depths of his eyes melded with a chocolate color that radiated warmth.
“Jesus, babe, I hate the reminder of what he did to you. I see the bruises and all I see is you hanging by your throat.” He sighed. “I’m asking if you will do this for me.”
My eyes widened and my heart skipped a beat. I’d anticipated him demanding I let Anstice heal me, not asking if I’d do it for him because he didn’t want to be reminded of Anton strangling me. I didn’t know what to do with that, so I stayed quiet.
He continued, “You still want to refuse, I’ll let it go, but I won’t like it.”
I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek, and watched him as he waited patiently for my answer. “It’ll be fast?”
“Yeah, babe.”
I was uncertain if Anstice would be able to read my thoughts like the Wraith, and I was worried about it. “She has to touch me?”
Kilter nodded. “Yes, but briefly.”
He wanted me to do this because he hated seeing the bruises. “Okay.”
Before I knew what he was doing, Kilter tilted his head and his lips brushed my forehead. When he stepped back, I noticed the quick change in his expression as if he realized what he’d done.
It was obvious we were both unaccustomed to tenderness.
Anstice and Kilter were telling the truth. It didn’t hurt—actually, all I felt was warmth on my neck.
I sat on the edge of the bed as Anstice hovered over me, eyes closed and hands inches away from my skin. I kept my eyes open and on Kilter who stood leaning up against the bedpost watching.
I knew if it hurt or I wanted it to stop, he would make sure that happened.
Anstice’s hands changed colors from white to a deep orange and to bright red. She kept her eyes closed, and I noticed her flinch several times before coughing, her breathing labored and ragged.
Her body stiffened and the subtle lines of her face were strained. She suddenly gasped for air and her eyes flew open as she staggered back from the bed.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she glanced from me to Kilter. “No matter what Waleron says about you going into the compound, it was the right thing to do.” She looked back at me. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not much, but I’m just really glad you’re here now.” Quickly, she turned and left the room.
I was uncertain what she was talking about or who Waleron was and why he’d have a say about anything.
Kilter pushed off the bedpost and took two steps toward me. “Come.”
When I rose, he took my hand and I followed him into the bathroom. He placed me in front of the mirror, him directly behind me. With a gentle caress of his fingertips, he swept my hair away from my neck.
God, the bruises were gone. I turned my head from side to side, and not a single reminder of Anton’s handprints remained on my neck. “Wow,” I whispered.
Kilter’s hands settled on my shoulders and he gently squeezed before slowly sliding them down my arms. “You trusted me.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. I had.
I stared at us in the mirror, Kilter close and towering over me. And me, small and fragile. His arms were muscled and strong with black ink and mine spindly, weak, and pale.
God, when had I become so pale?
I always hated the mirror, hated seeing myself. I still did, but this time, I didn’t see me staring back, I saw a lost, vacant girl standing in a man’s arms.
Kilter’s grip tightened and his brows lowered. “Babe, do you see how thin you are?”
My breath caught in my throat and I tensed. I hated talking about my weight. I hated everything it meant. I shoved my elbow into his ribs, pushing him back. Then I ran from the bathroom.
“Fuck.” I heard him mutter. “Rayne?”