tried to wipe at her lids, he took her hands away from her face.
"No. That's medicine. Leave it there."
She froze. Cleared her throat until she could speak. "Where… where am I?"
Her voice, groggy and hoarse as it was, sounded beautiful to him.
"You're with…" Me . "You're with the Brotherhood. You're safe."
As her glassy, unfocused eyes moved around, he leaned up to a switch on the wall and dimmed the lights. Even though she was delirious and no doubt mostly blind from the ointment, he didn't want her to see him. The last thing she needed to worry about was what would happen if her scars didn't heal smoothly.
When she dropped her arms into the water and braced her feet against the tub's base, he cut the faucet off and sat back on his heels. He wasn't good at touching people, so it wasn't a big surprise that she couldn't stand his hands on her. But goddamn, he had no idea what to do to relieve her. She looked miserable—way past crying and into numb agony.
"You're safe…" he murmured, though he doubted she believed it. He wouldn't have if he'd been her.
"Is Zsadist here?"
He frowned, not knowing what to make of that. "Yeah, I'm right here."
"You are?"
"Right here. Right beside you." He reached out awkwardly and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
And then she seemed to slide into a delirium. She mumbled, making little sounds that might have been words, and jerked around. Z grabbed another towel, rolled it up, and put it under her head so she wouldn't bump it against the hard edge of the Jacuzzi.
He racked his brain for what he could do to help her, and because it was the only thing he could think of, he hummed a little. When that seemed to calm her, he began to sing softly, choosing an Old Language hymn to the Scribe Virgin, one about blue skies and white owls and green fields of grass.
Gradually Bella went lax and took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she eased back against the towel pillow he'd made for her.
As his singing was the only comfort he could give her, he sang.
Phury stared down at the pallet where Bella had just lain, thinking that the torn nightgown she'd had on made him ill. Then his eyes shifted to the skull on the floor to the left. The female skull.
"I can't allow this," Wrath said as the sound of running water got cut off in the bathroom.
"Z's not going to hurt her," Phury muttered. "Look at the way he treats her. Christ, he's acting like a bonded male."
"What if his mood changes? You want Bella on that list of females he's killed?"
"He'll hit the ceiling if we take her away."
"Tough shit—"
The two of them froze. Then they both slowly looked toward the bathroom door. The sound coming from the other side was soft, rhythmic. As if someone were…
"What the hell?" Wrath murmured.
Phury couldn't believe it either. "He's singing to her."
Even muted, the purity and beauty of Zsadist's voice were striking. His tenor had always been like that. On the rare occasions he sang, the sounds that came out of his mouth were stunners, capable of making time grind to a halt and then slide into infinity.
"God… damn." Wrath pushed his sunglasses up on to his forehead and rubbed his eyes. "Watch him, Phury. Watch him well."
"Don't I always? Look, I have to go to Havers's myself tonight, but only long enough to get my prosthesis refitted. I'll have Rhage keep an eye on things until I get back."
"You do that. We're not going to lose that female on our watch, we clear? Jesus Christ… that twin of yours would drive anyone right off a cliff, you know that?" Wrath stalked out of the room.
Phury looked back down to the pallet and imagined Bella lying there next to Zsadist. This was all wrong. Z didn't know a fricking thing about warmth. And that poor female had spent the last six weeks in the cold ground.
It should be me in there with her. Washing her. Easing her. Caring for her.
Mine , he thought, glaring at the door the singing was coming out of.
Phury started for the bathroom, suddenly
"No. That's medicine. Leave it there."
She froze. Cleared her throat until she could speak. "Where… where am I?"
Her voice, groggy and hoarse as it was, sounded beautiful to him.
"You're with…" Me . "You're with the Brotherhood. You're safe."
As her glassy, unfocused eyes moved around, he leaned up to a switch on the wall and dimmed the lights. Even though she was delirious and no doubt mostly blind from the ointment, he didn't want her to see him. The last thing she needed to worry about was what would happen if her scars didn't heal smoothly.
When she dropped her arms into the water and braced her feet against the tub's base, he cut the faucet off and sat back on his heels. He wasn't good at touching people, so it wasn't a big surprise that she couldn't stand his hands on her. But goddamn, he had no idea what to do to relieve her. She looked miserable—way past crying and into numb agony.
"You're safe…" he murmured, though he doubted she believed it. He wouldn't have if he'd been her.
"Is Zsadist here?"
He frowned, not knowing what to make of that. "Yeah, I'm right here."
"You are?"
"Right here. Right beside you." He reached out awkwardly and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
And then she seemed to slide into a delirium. She mumbled, making little sounds that might have been words, and jerked around. Z grabbed another towel, rolled it up, and put it under her head so she wouldn't bump it against the hard edge of the Jacuzzi.
He racked his brain for what he could do to help her, and because it was the only thing he could think of, he hummed a little. When that seemed to calm her, he began to sing softly, choosing an Old Language hymn to the Scribe Virgin, one about blue skies and white owls and green fields of grass.
Gradually Bella went lax and took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she eased back against the towel pillow he'd made for her.
As his singing was the only comfort he could give her, he sang.
Phury stared down at the pallet where Bella had just lain, thinking that the torn nightgown she'd had on made him ill. Then his eyes shifted to the skull on the floor to the left. The female skull.
"I can't allow this," Wrath said as the sound of running water got cut off in the bathroom.
"Z's not going to hurt her," Phury muttered. "Look at the way he treats her. Christ, he's acting like a bonded male."
"What if his mood changes? You want Bella on that list of females he's killed?"
"He'll hit the ceiling if we take her away."
"Tough shit—"
The two of them froze. Then they both slowly looked toward the bathroom door. The sound coming from the other side was soft, rhythmic. As if someone were…
"What the hell?" Wrath murmured.
Phury couldn't believe it either. "He's singing to her."
Even muted, the purity and beauty of Zsadist's voice were striking. His tenor had always been like that. On the rare occasions he sang, the sounds that came out of his mouth were stunners, capable of making time grind to a halt and then slide into infinity.
"God… damn." Wrath pushed his sunglasses up on to his forehead and rubbed his eyes. "Watch him, Phury. Watch him well."
"Don't I always? Look, I have to go to Havers's myself tonight, but only long enough to get my prosthesis refitted. I'll have Rhage keep an eye on things until I get back."
"You do that. We're not going to lose that female on our watch, we clear? Jesus Christ… that twin of yours would drive anyone right off a cliff, you know that?" Wrath stalked out of the room.
Phury looked back down to the pallet and imagined Bella lying there next to Zsadist. This was all wrong. Z didn't know a fricking thing about warmth. And that poor female had spent the last six weeks in the cold ground.
It should be me in there with her. Washing her. Easing her. Caring for her.
Mine , he thought, glaring at the door the singing was coming out of.
Phury started for the bathroom, suddenly
Similar Books
