Page 83 of Close Quarter
Energy swirled around them with the sweet smell of summer apple blossoms. But small lifeless spots hovered around them--and thin lines of pain.
Not his own.
Silas.He broke the kiss. "Let me help you heal."
"I'm fine."
"Liar." He touched Silas's side, his arm. "I can feel--see--where you're hurt. Where you're dying."
Silas stilled for a moment. Then sighed.
"That's far from fair. How am I supposed to stoically lie to you about my injuries now?"
"You're not." Rhys brushed a curl of hair out of Silas's face and sat back on his heels. "Besides, Stoics aren't supposed to lie."
"And how would you know that?" A hint of amusement entered into Silas's rough voice.
"I read Marcus Aurelius in college."
"You don't know Latin, but you've read Aurelius?" Silas rubbed his face. "Americans."
He poked Silas in the side--hard. That elicited a painful hiss from his fae. "You are such an arrogant jackass sometimes," Rhys said.
"I'm an arrogant jackass all the time." He coughed a laugh and massaged the spot Rhys's fingers had hit. "It's just that some of the times you enjoy it."
True. Some of the time, that arrogance made him furious with rage--and sometimes it made him rock hard with desire. But most of the time? Most of the time, Silas's whole being made his heart squeeze tight and his mind tangle itself into knots.
Right now, it was a bit of all four. He placed a hand on Silas's chest. "Will you let me help you heal?"
Silas caught Rhys's hand and kissed it before replying. "Yes."
The last of Rhys's anger melted away. He touched his lips to Silas's. This time he didn't need to badger Silas to respond--he did, deeply and passionately. But beneath that...
God.
Silas's veins burned with poison. Muted pain rippled through Rhys. He reached for the energy of the garden and pushed what he gathered into Silas.
Silas moaned and broke off the kiss.
Shit.He let go of Silas. "Sorry, I thought--"
Silas caught his arm and gently pulled him back. "Just too much, too fast." His face had lost color--or rather had become jaundiced again.
"I'm not as strong as you." He paused, then spoke lower. "I'll never be as strong as you."
The inside of Rhys's skull itched. Quarter- fae. What would happen if he pushed too much energy into a fae? Best not dwell on that. He reached for his element again but this time pushed a tiny stream toward Silas.
"Better," he said.
The damaging fire of the poison in Silas lessened, like a riverbed drying up. The festering death eating at Silas's side stopped and reversed.
So slowly, though. So much pain in Silas. Rhys laid his head on Silas's stomach. "You shouldn't be conscious, let alone walking."
Silas stroked his hair. "Well, one good thing Anaxandros gave me was a very high tolerance for pain."
Rhys couldn't stop the shudder. "I hate that thing."
"As do I."
