Page 24 of Whispers of Helena
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” he says, dismissing the blood staining his side.
“Liar.”
His jaw tightens. “Helena, go back to bed.”
I take one step toward him. “I won’t.”
“I can take care of myself. Now go.”
“You’re clearly doing a fine job,” I snap, closing the distance.
He blows out a tight breath. I see his face contort in pain as he tries to grab the damned rope. I reach out my hand to stop him.
“Let me do that. I’ll hang it in its place and then we’ll go up to the house.”
A simple nod is returned, so I hang the rope on its hook. At least it’s clean tonight. Which is more than I can say for Silas’s clothing. I cross to his healthy side.
“Put your arm around my shoulders.”
“No, thank you.”
“Mr. Hayes, stop being difficult,” I scold.
“Please let me walk alone. I can’t touch you, Helena.”
The words pierce through me. His voice is desperate and tired.
“Okay,” I breathe. “At least let me walk beside you.”
He doesn’t respond, but simply starts toward the house. We walk in silence through the back door.
“Go on up to your room. I’m going to get some things to patch you up.” I walk to the pantry, pulling out the first aid kit and some old towels. As I ready supplies, I hear him cross the roomto the stairs, walking to his room. I pour a bowl of water and tuck everything else under my arm.
“Helena?” Eli’s voice is a gentle whisper. “Everything alright?”
I look towards him in the dimly lit room and shake my head. He nods in return.
“I heard the wolves. Are you going to tend to him?”
“I’m going to try my best.”
“Godspeed, Ms. Toth. Hold on a moment.” He walks to the office down the hall, returning with Silas’s bottle of gin and a glass. “He’ll be easier to handle with a little of this. I’ll wait down here. Let me know if he needs to be stitched up.”
“Is this a regular occurrence?” I pause before heading up the stairs, hands full.
“No, he always comes back in one piece. Not sure what this means in your world, but I would assume this isn’t normal.”
“You’d be right.”
I give him a tight smile and start up the stairs. Reaching the landing, I tread softly, ensuring I don't wake Kiran. When I get to Silas’s door, a slight shock crosses over me at the fact that he left it unlocked; that he’s letting me in.
As I enter, I notice Silas’s room is dimly lit by the bathroom light, creating long shadows that only deepen its austere simplicity. The air is thick with the scent of soap and leather, and it wraps around me like a shroud. My arms tremble slightly as I set the supplies on the nightstand, my grip tightening around the glass of gin.
Guided by the faint sound of running water, I head for the bathroom. The sight before me stops me cold. Silas stands at the sink, his broad back illuminated by the harsh light above the mirror. His shirt is gone, revealing the raw wound that slashes across his side, a smear of blood still dark against his skin. But it’s not just the wound that holds my attention, it’s the sheer presence of him. The taut stretch of muscle, the curve of his shoulders, the power in his frame that speaks of years of hard labor and unrelenting grit.
“That doesn’t look like it’s from a wolf,” I say, my voice steady, though my pulse hammers in my ears.
