Night had fallen when Ranealya opened her eyes. Dancing flames illuminated the sides of the cave walls, and the smell of roasting meat turned her stomach into a growling beast. She sat up and let the fur blanket fall to her waist. Then she tested her left shoulder, cringing when she moved it. It hurt less than before, and the image of white magic and a man’s face flashed across her mind.
A log crackled in the fireplace, and she flinched. Her gaze darted around the area, looking for any signs of movement. A man sat across the fire, the same one she thought she’d dreamed up earlier. The one who called himself Gregor.
He feigned a yawn. "I guess it's time for me to go home.” When her gaze never wavered, he began to squirm under scrutiny. "There's some leftover quail here, if you're hungry. I mean, I'm sure you're hungry – but if you want something to eat--" He ran his fingers through his hair. “No one knows you're here, and I'm sure you prefer to keep it that way, so don't make too much noise or attack anybody or anything like that."
His rambling amused her to no end. He was trying so hard to be brave in front of her. As if she could harm him. She couldn’t shift as long as the Azekborn’s poison flowed through her veins, and she was too weak to kill him. But he’d seen her in her natural state. Surely, he wasn’t so dense as to not know what she was. And as such, she needed to silence him. But why did the idea of his lifeless hazel eyes staring back her cause a deep ache in her chest? He was just a human, after all.
He approached her with caution slowing his movements, carrying fresh hykona leaves, water, and a soft cloth in his hands. He knelt beside her. When he removed some of the blackened leaves stuffed in her wound, she flinched and grabbed his arm, digging her nails into his flesh.
To his credit, he didn’t scream. His face tightened for a second before he drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "I need to clean the wound out," he explained in a surprisingly calm voice. "The hykona leaves are black now."
Her grip loosened, and her eyes flickered to her wound. So, he knew about healing. Perhaps he would prove useful after all. She could always delay his death long enough for him to finish healing her. A few seconds passed before she released him. Then she turned her head to the side, allowing him full access to the wound.
"So, you've finally realized I'm not trying to hurt you." He removed the remaining leaves in one saturated clump, causing her to gasp. "Sorry, I --" He sponged the edge of the wound with a damp cloth, but she tensed further, waiting for the burning to ease.
He sighed and sat back on his heels. When she peeked back at him, his mouth formed a perfect circle. What did he find so fascinating about her? Then he shook his head and wiped his hand across his face. "Do you trust me to use magic on you? I can try to take the pain away, but I may end up causing you to fall asleep."
She said nothing but loosened her grip on the fur blanket she’d been clutching the whole time.
His hand shook as he reached across her. At this angle, she could easily rip his throat out if he tried anything. Misty white light flowed from his fingers to the injured shoulder. The pain vanished, and a purr of appreciation vibrated deep in her chest. By the goddess, she hadn’t felt this relaxed in years.
He withdrew his hands and reached for the cloth. This time, she allowed him to work without interruption.
"What injured you?" When she didn’t answer, he continued, "Did you get into a fight?" He packed the wound with the leaves. "What kind of poison is this? Where did it come from?"
She snarled in response, and Gregor jumped back. He was asking far too many questions. The less his kind knew, the better.
"I think I may be able to heal it tomorrow, though." He stood and held out a tunic. "I ask that you please -- um -- wear this. Even though you seem more animal than human, I can still tell that you're a female, and…"
His cheeks flushed in the firelight as he struggled to find the right words without embarrassing himself further. Despite his efforts, his eyes kept returning to her body. Did he really find her fur covered breasts attractive? When was the last time he saw a naked woman? Judging by his appearance, quite a while. Stubble covered his thin cheeks, and his pale brown hair hung loose, curling around his shoulders in a somewhat tangled mess that matched his wrinkled clothes. But underneath it all, he had a handsome face, as far as humans went. And the fact he didn’t find her repulsive almost made her feel sorry for what she needed to do to him eventually.
He draped the tunic over her body and shook his dog awake. "I suggest you put that on while the spell is still working so it isn't too painful. Duke and I will be back in the morning to check on you."
He paused at the entrance of the cave and muttered something under his breath. A flash of blue filled the opening, leaving behind a filmy curtain in its wake.
Ranealya’s gut twisted. Just when she was beginning to think she might have found a human worth trusting, he locked her in this cave with a magical barrier. He probably wanted to keep her prisoner here until he returned with the Azekborn.
She waited until she could no longer smell him before approaching the barrier. Sparks crackled on her fingertips as she raked them across it. When it didn’t waiver, she pressed her palm against it and leaned closer. The barrier was as solid as a dungeon door. She had become his prisoner.