Page 22 of Rauf: Minotaur Mates

Nakhil met us in the yard. His gaze went from my shirt to Teresa, and he came around the truck to open her door.

“Bar the gate,” I told him. “Put the men on watch. I want the road and the back fields covered.”

“What happened?” Nakhil held the passenger door open, waiting for Teresa to climb down.

“A buried surveillance device. It fired when we got close,” I said. His hand tightened on the door.

“Is she hurt?” he asked, leaning down to look into the cab.

“I’m fine,” Teresa said as she stepped down. “He needs that shoulder looked at.”

Nakhil waited until she was clear of the door, then shut it and called to Drev. Drev came out of the barn, saw my shirt, and hurried over.

“Get the others,” Nakhil told him. “We need a watch.”

“Tell them to keep their eyes on the ground too,” I said. “We don’t know if there are more.”

Drev nodded. “The goat ate while you were gone,” he told Teresa. “Quite a bit.”

“Good.” She managed a smile for him. “That’s good.”

He looked at my shoulder once more before heading toward the shed. Nakhil took Teresa’s bag out of the truck and passed it to me.

“Get inside. I’ll see to the gate,” he said. He waited until I turned toward the house before going to bar it.

I took her inside and left her bag in the kitchen. The medical kit hung on the wall beside the door. I pulled it down, then kept going toward my room.

She stood beside my bed while I set the kit down and pulled off my shirt. Getting it past my horns took more care than usual, and I was glad to throw it onto the chair.

When I looked at her, she was staring at my chest.

I waited for her to say something. She looked down, then up again, and I became aware of every scar between my neck and my waistband. Some hadn’t healed neatly. There was no reason to assume a human woman would want to look at them.

But her eyes kept returning to the unmarked skin of my stomach, and she’d caught her lower lip between her teeth.

“Is there a problem?” I asked. I kept my arms at my sides and let her look.

She let go of her lip and held out her hand. “Give me the kit. I’ll put some salve on that burn.”

I picked it up and handed it to her. She glanced through the supplies, then pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

I sat on the edge of the mattress. Teresa set the kit beside me and stepped close enough to examine my shoulder. I rested my hands on my thighs and tried to give her room to work.

She cleaned the burn first. It stung, and I concentrated on that while she bent close to examine the damage. Her hand rested against my chest. I could feel her palm each time I breathed.

“That’s going to be sore for a while,” she said, easing the cleaning pad away from the raw skin.

“It’s been sore for a while,” I said. She stopped cleaning long enough to look at me.

I almost smiled. Then she put her hand back on my chest, and I had to remind myself she was trying to help. She probably wouldn’t appreciate being pulled into my lap halfway through it.

The salve helped. So did taking off the shirt, though I wasn’t paying much attention to my shoulder anymore. Teresa worked carefully, spreading a thin layer over the burn. I leaned forward to keep her from having to reach so far, and her knee brushed mine.

I looked at her mouth while she worked. There was a small crease between her brows, and I wanted to smooth it away. I wanted her to look at me again, though I wasn’t sure what I’d do if she did.

Her hand slowed. She put the salve away and lowered the kit to the floor. When she straightened, her hand came back to my chest. Her thumb brushed the edge of an old scar. I held still while she followed it a little farther.

“Does that hurt?” she asked, stopping with her thumb against the scar.