way. Kett, irritated, was forced to agree-the wound there had been tormented by whatever clothes she wore.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused as he took his time stroking the white stuff into her skin.
“So are you.”
“No, I’m n-”
“Kett, I can smell your arousal.”
Her face flooded with heat, but then so did the rest of her. Okay, so it was hot to have a big, buff guy stroking her abdomen. So what?
“It’s not-” she began, but was cut off again.
“I’ve never met anyone as deeply in denial as you,” he said, moving on to the big bruise on her ribs.
“Oh, fuck off.”
Bael just smiled and carried on, and Kett realized she was losing her touch. After all, if she really didn’t want him there, she could get rid of him. And yet here she was, lying naked and allowing him to stroke her in a way that wasn’t entirely medical.
“Does it feel any better?”
“No,” she lied.
“Maybe I’ll just have to spend more time on it then,” he said, carefully smoothing his fingers over her ribs, perilously close to her breasts. “And be very thorough.”
“Pervert.”
He grinned. “That’s what you said that first time, remember?”
Kett remembered. She was remembering a lot. Like how good Bael’s hands had felt on her then, and how wonderful they’d been in her dreams. Like how he looked when he smiled, his green eyes sparkling, and how he made her laugh.
He’d moved onto her hip now, stroking very carefully along the healing wound. The skin around it was still pink and very painful, swollen and tender, and Bael’s fingers were like water on burnt skin, bringing her wonderful relief.
“Better?” he asked, his voice husky, and Kett nodded. There wasn’t any point denying how turned-on she was now. She was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to mind. The arrow had torn through her flank when she was gryphon-shaped, which was now her buttock, hip and upper thigh. Bael stroked her gently, his fingers featherlight, and with each sweep across the front of her thigh Kett found herself wishing he’d go a little farther.
“Just so you know,” she said, and her voice cracked, “I still violently dislike you.”
Bael said nothing, his eyes on her.
“And I know you’re doing this on purpose.”
His face remained a picture of innocence.
“But if you wanted to touch me somewhere that didn’t need medical attention, I wouldn’t complain.”
Still he remained silent, although his lips quirked a little.
“And if you did it sooner rather than later, I might actually be grateful to you.”
Bael leaned over and brushed his lips over hers, before his fingers slipped across the uninjured part of her thigh and parted her legs a little. Kett held her breath but the bastard didn’t go where she wanted him to.
“I need you to move,” he said, his voice low and husky, and rolled her gently onto one side so he could tend to the gash that tore over her hip to her buttock. His eyes on hers, he stroked her carefully, his touch light, massaging the ointment into her abused flesh.
It was incredibly arousing, and at the same time hideously frustrating. All she wanted was for him to slip his hand between her thighs and touch her swollen, sensitive pussy lips. To touch her where she needed to be touched-where he
But while his fingers strayed over her hip and buttock, they never went any farther. Kett was ready to scream when he suddenly kissed her mouth, a long, deep, drugging kiss, rolling her onto her back and finally, finally moving his hand between her legs.
Kett tensed and Bael’s fingertip brushed her clit.
She came with a gasp, surprising herself and him. As his fingers continued to move over her slippery, wet flesh, his lips burned a trail down her neck and his other hand moved to stroke her injured shoulder. Kett winced, but Bael started to smear the healing paste on the wound, his touch soothing.
Her shoulder had been the most painful of the wounds, torn and discolored with some hideous infection that she now realized could have killed her. But under Bael’s gentle fingers, the pain receded, the soreness faded, and the extremely pleasant sensations he was creating between her legs overwhelmed her instead.
For the first time since she’d met Albhar and his pack of hunting dogs, she felt more pleasure than pain.
Bael kissed down one side of her neck, nibbled along the length of her collarbone and back again, then he started on her injured shoulder. Very, very gently, he kissed the torn, bruised flesh, and where his lips touched, the pain vanished.
Kett’s fingers slid through his hair, holding him to her, almost delirious, and it took her a few seconds to realize he’d lifted his head and was speaking to her.
“Kett, look.”
She focused blearily on her shoulder, squinting to see from the wrong angle.
“It’s gone away,” Bael said. “Where I’ve been kissing it. Look.”
Kett couldn’t see where he was pointing, so she moved one hand up to feel. And where she’d previously encountered sore, half-healed skin, now she was touching flesh that felt smooth, barely hurt at all.
“It looks like it’s been healing for weeks,” Bael said in wonder. “Months.”
“Did you know you could do this?”
“Me?” he said. “It’s that stuff Chance gave-”
“No,” Kett said. She smoothed away some of the paste on her hip. The wound, although less inflamed, was still there. “It’s you.”
They stared at each other for a moment, then Bael grinned at her and bent his head to her shoulder again. He kissed it all over, stroked, caressed and soothed it with his lips and tongue. Kett wondered vaguely if the healing paste tasted bad, but Bael never complained.
His fingers were still busy between her legs, rubbing her labia between his fingers, running his thumb around her clit, delving deep into her pussy. Kett arched against him, her hips moving in time with his thrusting fingers. She wanted more, but at the same time she never wanted him to stop what he was doing.
Stop he did, but only to lay a kiss on each of her tight nipples before moving south and starting to lick the wounds on her stomach. Kett peered at her own shoulder, and what she could see did indeed look as if it had been healing for weeks.
“Must be some kind of magic,” she murmured, and Bael looked up, grinning.
“My mouth has been called that before,” he said, and Kett began to correct him but his hands moved up and tweaked her nipples, distracting her into blissful silence.
He left her stomach, the wounds healing almost as Kett watched, and started on the painful gash across her hip. By now Kett was feverish with desire, her body bucking against his hands, her pussy so wet his fingers were slipping around. He turned her on her side again, and Kett pressed her legs together to keep his hand there. Bael, chuckling, pushed her over onto her stomach, trapping his hand under her, and she ground against it as he licked and kissed the cuts on her buttock. The sheets, tangled from all her writhing, caught against her puckered, sensitized nipples, and Kett’s fingers made fists in the crumpled linen as another orgasm rose inside her, ready to break.
But it didn’t come, because Bael raised his head, moved his hand and left her lying on her stomach, legs spread, panting with need.
“What-?” she began, but then he moved, pushing her legs farther apart, tilting her hips and pressing the head of his cock against her sodden entrance.
“I wanted to wait,” he rasped, pushing inside her, making her shudder, “but I couldn’t. Gods, I need to be inside you, Kett.”
