Page 76 of Master
Clara's magnificence stole my breath. She sat perfectly still, lips pressed together as Doc slathered the pale blue mint-scented foam on her arm, using a small tool to push the substance directly into the punctures. The only hint of discomfort was a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. I kissed the drop away, the salty taste lingering on my tongue.
"That should do it." Doc pressed a self-adhesive bandage to her arm before standing.
"Thanks," Clara watched, fascinated, as the edges of the bandage bubbled, creating an air-tight seal.
"You know the drill," Doc smiled down at Clara. "Lots of rest, plenty of liquids, and you'll be good as new in a few days."
"I already feel a lot better," she said, moving her arm experimentally.
Doc's smile faded—his gaze serious when it met mine.
"Make sure she gets lots of rest and plenty of liquids."
The doctor gave orders as good as any Chieftain. I gave a curt nod of agreement.
"I'll walk you back, Doc," Bartholomeus offered. "We think we got them all, but you can never be too safe."
As Mei and Bartholomeus walked the doctor out, we offered our goodbyes and thanks.
Clara sighed heavily as soon as we were alone, sagging against me.
"Sting my ass. That foam hurt like a bitch."
"I know." I agreed. "I've used it before."
Clara gave a hum in agreement and snugged against me.
I would cut off my own arm to save her pain, but I couldn't deny that this moment—the way she clung and looked to me for comfort—felt like bliss.
Mei bustled into the room, her dark eyes flickering over us before she gestured to the kitchen.
"I made beef stew and fresh bread."
"That sounds wonderful," Clara sighed. She glanced down at herself and frowned. Like me, dark green blood dotted her skin and garments.
I knew well what it felt like to be covered in the blood of one's enemy.
"Why don't we get you clean," I suggested, standing with one arm under Clara's bent knees and the other pressing her shoulders against my chest. "I can come back for food later."
"That sounds good." Clara agreed, laying her head against my shoulder.
"You two get washed up, and I'll bring a tray of food to the guest house,” our hostess offered.
"Thank you, Mei," I said. This human female didn’t stir my blood and loins as Clara did, but I liked her.
"Thanks, Mei," Clara called over my shoulder as I strode toward the doorway.
"You know it's my arm that's hurt, not my legs," Clara teased when I stepped onto the small path leading to the guest house at the rear of the property.
"I like to carry you," I insisted. "You weigh very little." The way she felt in my arms, pressed close against my skin... if I had my way, I'd carry her everywhere.
"God, you're good for the ego." Her faint huff of breath carried a musical lilt.
The guest house consisted of one large room with a small seating area on one side and a bed on the other. The doorway to the right of the bed led to a small bathing area. Our packs lay neatly on a bench while fresh towels and linens occupied a corner of the bed. I sat Clara on the edge of the mattress, snagging a couple of clean towels before turning on the shower. The water needed to be warm, not too hot, especially with Clara's injury covered in healing foam.
She was half naked when I returned, flinching as she wrestled out of her pants and curling her adorable little nose at the sight of Kerzak blood staining the garment.
"Let me." I went on my knees beside her, sliding the fabric off her shapely legs. Her shirt was the next to go; the white lacy contraption she called a bra only made her full breasts lovelier, the fabric accenting the peachy curve of her skin.
