Page 13 of Blood Slumberm
He gritted his teeth. She had been carrying this wound right in front of him, with his healing power at his fingertips. “You’ve been dancing with that for days. You weren’t even limping.”
“I’ve developed a high tolerance for pain.”
Fuck. After spending a decade among Hesperines, he had forgotten how barbaric life was for women in Cordium.
Or perhaps he had wanted to forget this culture of which he had once been a proud son.
“Don’t put your feet on the floor for at least another hour,” he said gruffly. “Let the healing spell finish working.”
Troi didn’t wait for her reply before seeing himself out of the room.
When the door shut behind him, Celandine lit a candle and pushed back the covers again. She ran trembling fingers over her unblemished skin.
The pain she had lived with for so long was finally gone.
Why had a Taurus, a Hesperine, done this for her?
For the same reason she gave him her blood, of course. He needed her fit for their plan.
She crossed her arms and stayed in bed. Not because he had told her to—it was simply the sensible thing to do. She needed two working legs to get revenge on Rixor.
No more than a quarter of the hour had passed when there came a brusque knock on her door.
“I’m coming in,” Troi warned.
She covered her leg again, trying to forget how his big, warm hand had felt there. If he tried to examine her so intimately again, she would arm herself with her distaff.
“Very well,” she called.
Troi strode in like the lord of the manor and picked her up in his arms. She sputtered a protest and struggled, but the grip she had fought off so easily that first night was now like iron.
This immortal was far more powerful than she now.
“Where are you taking me?” she cried.
“Hush and do as the healer orders.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to obey you!” she burst out. Fury and panic sent a rush of energy through her, and she fought him with all her strength.
His grip loosened, as if she had surprised him. She managed to tumble free.
She landed at his feet with her bad leg under her. Still tender. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from showing her pain. She would rather be in pain on the floor than take orders from anyone.
Troi backed away, holding up his hands. “Celandine. I am so sorry.”
How dare he sound so gentle and sincere. “Do not…” Her voice shook. She steadied herself and tried again. “Do not give me commands.”
“Never again. Not even in jest.”
She eyed him warily from under the hair that had fallen in her eyes. Plenty of men had made her that promise, and every single one of them had broken it.
Troi didn’t move. “May I help you up?”
“You may hand me my distaff.”
He retrieved the artifact from beside the bed and handed it to her, blunt end first. She pulled herself to her feet, leaning her weight on the staff.
“I drew a bath for you in the next room,” Troi said. “The warm water will relax your muscles and help the healing work faster.”
