Page 121 of Vasmora

No. Push it away.

I clambered to my feet and followed the narrow rock path to the ledge, where tiny white flowers seemed to glow in the moonlight. Luxuriously warm water met the tips of my toes as I brushed my foot over the surface. What looked like golden fireflies twinkled around us, offering a soft shimmer of light.

I stepped down into the pool, the heat swallowing my aching calves, my knees, my thighs. The tension in my muscles eased as, dress and all, I submerged myself to my chest. The quiet clank of Zevander’s weapons had me turning to see him plopping down at the water’s edge where he sat beside my new clothes on a patch of worn grass.

My skin itched again.

I ran my fingernails over the surface of it, attempting to scratch away the blood. The more I rubbed it, the more it smeared. “It won’t come off. The blood. It’s sticking to me. It won’t come off.”

At the soft grip of my elbow, I twisted sharply. I didn’t even know my fist had followed, until he caught my wrist before it made contact.

Remorse and humiliation burned through me as I stared at my arm captured in his hand. “I’m sorry. What am I …”

“It’s all right.” Gentle hands gathered mine, and he scooped water over the back of my palm, rubbing the blood that stained my skin. From the edge of the bank, where dirt met rock, he cupped some of the watery mud and smeared it over my skin, working it into my fingers and nails. “Solassion blood is like oil in water.” He snorted. “Worse trying to get it off your clothes.”

While he washed Drefan away, I focused on the blood stains across his neck and jaw, spattered over the front of his cuirass and across the metal clips. Not even the current in the caves had washed it away. The blood of those he’d killed to get to me. The brutal vengeance he’d exacted on my behalf. He’d crawled from death and shadows, risen up from that abysmal chasm.

For me.

My angel with dark wings. My merciless weapon of wrath.

“This has been the longest night. But you’re still here,” I said, staring at his lips that I dared myself to kiss.

“I’m not going anywhere.” While his words were resolute, my heart clenched with doubt.

“When you stepped inside that cell, I thought death had finally claimed me. I felt so much peace in that moment. And I was ready to join you in whatever afterlife the gods offered.” I lowered my gaze from his. “I promised you I would live, but–” Tears blurred my vision, and I busied myself by scooping up a handful of mud and rubbing it on his exposed neck.

“Moon witch.” He snatched up my wrist and kissed the back of my hand. “I curse the gods for the fate you were dealt, and I am grateful you were strong enough to survive it. But I did not intend for those words to tether you to suffering.”

“They were the only thing I clung to. All I had left of you.” Frowning, I shook my head. “And I don’t want you to apologize for not following after me. We’re both alive, and that’s all that matters.” I waved my hand in an effort to stave off the emotion rising to my throat. While I’d breached the surface and survived, my lungs still refused to take a breath.

I wanted so badly to believe it was real. That I wouldn’t find myself back in that cell, halfway to death, as Loyce had promised.

He hooked my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

I scowled. Ready for what? Did he imagine I was going to lose my senses? Scream and cry in a fit of rage? I hadn’t suffered the same abuses, or for nearly as long as he had. Losing myself would’ve been an insult to what he’d endured.

I backed up a step, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I told you, I’m fine.” Admitting anything else would mean that Loyce had won in the end, that Drefan was right when he’d said escape was impossible. That what happened to me had destroyed me, somehow. It hadn’t. “It was two weeks. You suffered far longer.”

“The length of suffering is inconsequential. You tell me you’re fine, and if you need me to believe that, I will.”

I bristled at that. “I don’t need you to believe anything.” Pushing away from him, I forced myself further into the pool. Deeper. Refusing to let him see the tears that sprang to my eyes. The seed of panic germinating in my chest.

Push it away.

The first step was stripping myself out of the clothes that clung to me like ruined skin. Sopping with water, the hem was far too heavy to lift over my head. Instead, I took hold of the neckline and tore it off me, my nails cutting through the brittle fabric. The dress split down the middle, and I turned just enough to heave it toward Zevander, who caught it, his brows pulled tight. Studying me again.

“You see? I’m fine. I’m stripping every last bit of them away! I feel light as a bird now!”

A violet flame danced over his hand, catching on the wet dress, and it sizzled to ash.

“Are you going to bathe, as well?” I asked.

“Is that what you want?”

I licked my lips and nodded. It wasn’t necessarily intimacy that I craved, but him. His body. His warmth. His scent.

A nervous thrum of energy pulsed through me as he doffed his boots and leathers, his body a wall of muscle. He stepped down into the spring, letting out a groan as the water swallowed him with every step toward me. I’d kept him in the periphery of disbelief, a chimera I refused to acknowledge for fear of it fading. Watching him move toward me was as terrifying as a shadow moving by its own will. When he finally reached me, the water that had risen to my shoulders only met half his stomach.