Page 102 of The Firebrand
“Kind of like Metallica’s doing ‘Hardwired.’”
Alarik and Castia shared puzzled looks.
“A heavy metal band is playing in it?”
Their stares were still vacant. “It hurts.”
When Alarik rested a hand on Braelyn’s head, she cried out. Rein jolted forward, but Castia blocked him, shoving a palm into his chest.
“A little pain means she’s healing.”
Rein backed away from the bed but watched intently, his lips set into a grim line.
When Alarik’s hands feathered along her legs, lacerations and bruises disappeared. Braelyn felt a chill in the air, goosebumps dotting her arms. Pausing at her ribs, the mage’s fingers grazed the skin, a cool tickle, a muffled pop. He rested a palm on her cast.Pop. After he healed the wounds on her chest, he removed the bandage on her nose.
Braelyn glanced down at her body. “That’s just impossible. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it.” She paused, an idea inching into her mind. “Can healers cure everything?”
Rein answered. “Only injuries. They can’t treat diseases except those resulting from magic.”
“Just a thought.” She’d stick with Dr. Joe’s cancer treatments.
“Finished.” Alarik tossed the coverlet back over Braelyn before he snapped the cast on her forearm, removing it. “This is useless now. Rein, more blankets. The healing spells have chilled her. She should rest in bed through tomorrow.”
Braelyn didn’t mind being ignored since she was still freezing and stunned by Alarik’s abilities. When Rein tossed two covers on top of her, she grasped them to her chin, her teeth chattering.
“When we channel power to cast a spell, the exchange of energy drops the temperature of the room. I drew from my son. Usually, I keep some stored for emergencies, but I was low.”
Braelyn guessed that’s how mages fed. She’d ask Rein later.
While Alarik continued to give instructions, Rein listened with his backside on display. “Weakness from injuries or the healing process, especially with a concussion, is not unusual. After tomorrow, she should be completely recovered.”
****
Reinspun around, his jaw tight, neck stiff. He stared at Braelyn.
“What?” she asked, looking a little sheepish. “What did I do?”
“Mother. Father. Will you excuse us a moment?” Rein put a hand on each parent’s back, guiding them from the room. He kept his voice controlled, measured, nothing like how he felt.
What the fuck?
“Of course, son.” Alarik offered an arm to Castia. When she took it, he led her out the door, shutting it behind them.
Rein waited until their voices and footsteps faded. He adjusted his pants, the hard, swollen erection in the crotch making them snug. He squatted beside the bed to confront Braelyn. “What are you doing? Better yet, how are you doing it?”
“What? Don’t scare me, Rein.”
“You were admiring my tight ass in jeans, hoping my parents would leave soon so you can fuck me? You’ll start by pulling down my zipper. With that done, you’ll slide a hand inside my pants to fist my dick. I think you said ‘penis.’ Should I go on? Cause the rest only gets more graphic.”
Braelyn shot up in bed, a hand slapped over her mouth. “Oh my God! Your parents heard me say all that? I was talking out loud? I’m so embarrassed. Explain to them it’s my concussion.” She blushed bright crimson.
“No, you didn’t speak aloud.”
She scrunched her brows. “But you just gave me a word-for-word replay.”
“Uh-huh.”
She bit her lower lip, scooting to lean against the headboard, dragging the covers with her. “I don’t get it. Did you read my mind? If you did, stop it! Not fair.”
