Page 9 of Warmongers and Wands
I opened my eyes to see what looked to my untutored eyes to be a very professional splint. My leg was truly immobilized, held straight by the wood and the cloth.
“How’d you know how to do that?” I asked.
“I’ve witnessed many human conflicts.” He turned away and went to the fire, pouring steaming water from a pot into a bowl. “This is my first time putting what I’ve seen into practice though, so I hope I’ve done it correctly.”
He brought the bowl over beside the bed and got some soap and a washcloth. Then he headed back to the fire, pouring more of the steaming water into a mug and adding a tea bag.
“Here. Drink this, and I will wash you up and apply some of the ointment to your wounds.”
I sipped the tea, which according to the tag was Sleepytime chamomile, as the man removed my blankets, dipped the washcloth into the steaming water, and began to gently wipe the blood from my skin. It was downright erotic. And I fully realized how sad my love life was that having a man clean blood off my bruised and cut skin was the hottest thing that had ever happened to me in my life.
He clucked over the scrapes from the seatbelt, cleaning, drying, then smoothing ointment over the raw skin. I tried to cover up my reaction to his touch by sipping the tea, but there was nothing I could do about the way my breath hitched every time he touched me, or that my hardened nipples were clearly visible through my thin bra fabric. It was embarrassing. It was even more embarrassing because he noticed.
“If only you were not hurt, my witch.” He rubbed across one of my nipples with his thumb, fanning his fingers out to trace along the top of my breast. Everything tightened inside, heat settling into my core.
“Yeah.” My voice was breathy. “Maybe later, when I’m not so banged up?”
Who was I kidding? Guys were never into me. Guys this hot weredefinitelynever into me. Whatever this was, it was fleeting and by the time I wasn’t feeling like I’d been tossed down the side of a mountain, it would be gone. And so would he. Gone. Uninterested. Just friends. The usual.
“I’m not sure I can wait that long, my witch.”
Me, neither. I was starting to wonder how many Tylenol I’d need to take to make sex with a broken leg enjoyable. Probably the whole bottle.
“Soon.” He smiled, covered me up with an entire zoo of fur pelts, then took the basin of water over to the table while I drank my tea and tried to get my libido in check.
Then he put a cassette tape into a boom box that looked like it was straight out of the eighties. A sound poured from the speakers—Steely Dan. I settled into the soft blanket and furs, listening to the music as he brought me more tea. By the time I was done with the second cup of tea, I was happily on the edge of sleep, listening toHey Nineteen.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my eyelids drifting shut. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”
“I am yours, Adelaide,” the man replied. “Yours. You’ve returned to set me free, and I will serve you for all eternity.”
I floated to sleep, a tiny bit concerned that I’d just somehow attracted a very sexy stalker and wondering who the heck was Adelaide.
