"Hold still," Cleo snapped, trying to lift Sebastian’s shirt to see the damage.
"I’m fine," he snapped back. "It’s just a scratch."
"Scratch or not, that’s some mighty impressive bleeding," she countered, and then held up a hand when he moved to continue the argument. "You can continue talking if you wish, but know that no matter what you say, or how loud you are when you say it, the odds of me agreeing to leave you alone before I’ve had a look at that so-called scratch are rather minute."
Sebastian opened his mouth. Then shut it.
"A wise decision. Now remove your shirt."
Reaching over his shoulder with a wince, he hauled the shirt over his head, scrunched it into a bundle, and then threw it across the room. "Better?"
She’d tended his wounds once, and knew what his body looked like. But it was still a slap in the face, especially after the visit to Malachi's. A sleek sheathing of muscle covered his ribs, and his abdominals flexed as he sank back onto the bed. He'd been lean before, but not quite like this. The month of working with Bishop had honed his body into a finely wrought weapon.
"Lie down," she insisted, bringing her small bowl of water closer to her, and eyeing the ragged edges of the claw marks that sliced across his abdomen. One of them came perilously close to his belt. Another half an inch deeper, and the imp would have torn through gut muscle. Cleo swallowed, "You’re lucky, by the look of this."
He lay flat, one hand cupped beneath his head. Cleo gently wiped his wounds clean, the sound of water dripping into the bowl as she rung out her cloth the only noise.
"You promised you wouldn’t get hurt," she said softly.
Wringing the water into the bowl, she tried to ignore the red hue it now bore.
"I was trying not to," Sebastian replied, those silver eyes turning distant. "Two of them came at me at once, and one of them got lucky."
"I felt it," she whispered. "Through the bond. I nearly made Verity go back and fetch you, but then I sensed you were all right."
He looked down, silky lashes fanned across his cheeks. The second Verity had whisked her away, he’d shut down the bond again, as if he simply couldn’t allow himself to be so vulnerable for so long.
Cleo captured his fingertips, unable to help herself.
"Are you ready?" She gathered her power. She'd healed him once before, and despite her lack of education, healing was one of the arts she had a natural inclination for. "This might sting a little."
Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath, and his fingers tightened in hers. Cleo burned the poison from his body, closing her eyes as she worked through the complex healing weaves.
It was only minutes later, when she opened her eyes, that she found him watching her.
"It's done." And she was run ragged, exhausted by the day's events.
"Thank you," Sebastian whispered.
She should leave now. But something caught her tongue. It hadn't felt right to question him earlier, and she'd been too overwrought with emotion to think, but there was something she needed to know.
"I have a question for you," Cleo whispered. "I didn't wish to bring it up before everyone else, and there hasn't been a chance to ask it since."
He looked at her, perhaps sensing danger. "Yes?"
"I caught a glimpse of one of the demon's allies in my scrying. She's someone from your past I think. I suspect she has the ability to scry too." Cleo gave a brittle laugh. "She's probably serving the demon in the same capacity I'm helping everyone here. Do you... do you know of anyone?"
Nothing in his expression changed, but an arctic chill somehow seemed to emanate from him. He knew what she was asking. "Not off the top of my mind, no."
"Could you think about it? I think it's important to discover her identity."
His lashes obscured his eyes. "I'll try."
There was no further reason to remain. Any warmth that had existed between them in the previous moment had vanished. Cleo swallowed, and gathered her bowl. "Thank you."
* * *
"Well, don't you look like you lost a fight with a pack of rabid cats," Lady Eberhardt announced as Sebastian made his way to the dining room the following morning.