As she did that, everyone watched with wide eyes, unmoving, every gaze apprehensively on Ronan.
When she got too close—unknowing to her—he moved with a fidelity only known to predators and warriors, his hand on her wrist before she could flinch, the heat of his calloused skin mixing with her own.Is he always this warm?Her heart fluttered at his touch. She threw him a fierce look, to which he returned his own as he peered down at her.
"It's bad custom to touch him without permission," Nia hastily advised, hurrying closer to her. “Sorry, I tried to hang back—I don’t know if I can be this close right now.”
Nia too bent down, staring at the dirt while Rem stared directly at the Alpha.
"He doesn't have much option," Rem said, looking at Ronan, his pale blue eyes darting back and forth between hers, his brows furrowed. She breathed quickly, his scent sneaking into her lungs, which only made her breathe faster. He spoke after Nia translated, his voice low and rumbling.
"He wants to know what that is and where you got it," Nia added.
His hand was still on Rem’s wrist, and the longer he touched her, the redder her cheeks grew.
"I saw this with the hunters, just a few months ago. It's a long story, but my father runs an apothecary back in Ashmire, which he inherited from my grandmother. He was asked to help with an antidote. The Whispering Vine is what makes the poisons, and the Scentless Basil is what heals this.”
His gaze moved over her face as he considered this, speaking slowly. Nia relayed his response, “He wants to know why the humans would carry such an antidote, unless it’s deadly against them as well.”
Rem looked down, eyeing his grip on her. His large hands was rough and dirtied. “I don’t know. Father said it wasn’t poisonous to humans. I don’t know why that hunter had an antidote on him.”
Ronan didn't release his gaze, the two staring directly at each other while Nia spoke. He finally blinked and looked away, although his grip didn't release. Rem focused on controlling her breathing, staring at the intricate tattoos on his shoulder blades and upper arms; the inky patterns meant nothing to her, although she eagerly wondered what they meant tohim.
He finally let go of Rem.
"Go ahead, Rem," Nia said.
She hesitated. “He trusts me?”
“He can tell you are not lying. Your heart remained steady that entire time, compared to when you speak about the Callons.”
Rem’s stomach flipped. She hadnoidea he was ever aware of that, and all she did was blankly stared at his knee, trying to find a response that would explain everything.
Nothing came to mind, and she felt like her inaction spoke louder than anything else. So, she reached out to his broad chest, encased by curved traps and full shoulders, and tried to move on from that.
Ignore what he said just now. Help him. You owe him that much.
Rem hardly knew of their politics, and yet even she could tell how special it was to be this close to him. She liked how it felt to be useful to someone so important. The witches back home were never fond of her family, and she often daydreamed of being like her gran, of being someone revered.
But daydreams played in the sun, falling apart as soon as night fell.
Yet, here she was, useful tothem.
Her body stiffened when she considered something she hadn’t before—what if the witches had stifled her for all those years, stifled her wholefamily? What if they didn’t want anyone dreaming large, so they’d be compliant? They told everyone in the village that their job was to farm and raise children, nothing more. They were never taught how to fight, hunt, or read.
So why did her gran, a renowned woman, settle her family there?
Rem worked the gel into the wound, releasing her contemplation, especially when his body sporadically flinched. She could hear him breathing. There was something to being so close to him—while she was helping him—that felt intimate, reminding her of when he carried her.
"This is going to hurt," Rem gently said, and Nia echoed it in Icelandic.
She took her finger, grabbed another glob of gel, and lightly pushed it into the wound to make sure it got into the bloodstream like her father showed her. The Alpha’s blood trickled out. He growled and tensed but didn't protest.
For a moment, Rem thought the others might attack her, but their Alpha’s unwavering posture kept them rooted in their spot.
Pulling her hand back, she said, "We should save the rest in case we need it again."
Ronan spoke, Rem's attention immediately diverting to his eyes. He was looking at Nia before his languidly moving his gaze back to Rem. A seeping warmth bloomed in her navel, reaching her chest.
She didn’t like how her body so easily betrayed her. Especially since she could tell she was hungry for attention, care, or even to just feel like she belonged. Her loneliness, much to her chagrin, was getting to her.
