Chapter 33

Raven

After heating up the two buckets of water in the kitchens, I returned to my room, where Neil was—to my surprise—still waiting.

“You carried those by yourself?” he asked, rising from where he was sitting at the end of my bed as I passed by.

I shot him a sideways glance as I poured the buckets into the tub. “I’m stronger than I look,” I retorted. “Now get in. You smell like death.”

Neil crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you, I’ll wash in the morning.”

“No. You’ll wash now,” I said. “You stink like something just crawled up your ass and died. Besides, you can’t go inviting women back to your bed smelling like that, can you?”

My words seemed to hit him like another slap to the face, and I quickly regretted what I’d said. The man had only just been searching for his missing fiancée, for Goddess’ sake.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping somewhat. “I’m sorry.” I gestured to the steaming tub. “Just get in, will you? I’ll help you wash.”

Neil’s dark eyebrows shot up at that. “What?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” I muttered, turning my back to him and waving a dismissive hand over my shoulder. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want you drowning in your own bath. Go on, get undressed.”

There was a pause as Neil seemed to consider my offer.

A few moments later, I could hear the soft rustle of fabric behind me, and I knew I should look away—keep my focus on anything else—but the temptation was too much. I stole a glance over my shoulder, my breath catching in my throat as I caught sight of the muscles rippling across his back, tense and defined beneath skin marred by dirt, sweat, and dried blood.

I quickly turned away again, heat rushing to my cheeks, before he could see that I was staring.

Finally, I could hear the soft splash of water as Neil settled into the tub. “You can turn around now,” he said. When I turned, he was submerged from the waist down.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady myself as I picked up a sponge from the nearby table. Dipping it into the warm water, I started with his shoulders, scrubbing gently but firmly to wash away the grime and blood.

His skin was taut beneath my touch, his muscles still tense at first, but as I continued, they gradually began to relax.

“Your hands look different,” Neil murmured suddenly, his voice low. His eyes were half-lidded as he watched me wring out the sponge.

I froze for a heartbeat, my pulse quickening. “Different how?”

“Tanner,” he said, taking one of my hands in his and inspecting it. “It suits you.”

My heart gave a small, uncomfortable flutter, and I quickly pulled my hand back, turning my focus to scrubbing at a particularly stubborn patch of dirt on his upper arm. “I’ve been spending more time outside.”

Silence fell between us for a moment, the quiet punctuated only by the soft sounds of water sloshing in the tub. His eyes kept fluttering closed, as if he was having a hard time keeping them open.

“You went to search for her,” I said, more of a statement than a question.

Neil paused for a moment before he nodded. “I found the site where the caravan was attacked.”

“And?” I asked, although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear his response.

“She was not among them.”

Even though I didn’t know Serena, I felt myself let out a small breath of relief. “So she’s still alive,” I said.

Neil shot me a sidelong glance. “I never said that.”

“Oh.” There was another long silence as I considered his words. I couldn’t decide which was worse: the thought that she had been taken by rogues and was killed, or that she might still be alive, potentially suffering.

And then, more selfishly, there was the thought of her showing up and revealing that I was a liar.

As if reading my mind, Neil said, “I told you once that if she were to arrive, she would work with us. Not against us.”

I swallowed hard. “You know that for sure?”

He nodded stiffly. “I would not be engaged to her otherwise.”

I inhaled deeply, nodding as well. “I hope she makes it here, then,” I said, dipping the sponge into the water and working at cleaning his back.

After a while, I spoke again, my voice a little quieter this time. “I’m sorry I slapped you the other day,” I admitted. “Although you did deserve it.”

Neil sighed. “I suppose I did,” he agreed, which came as a surprise. He was quiet for a moment longer, then added, his voice a touch softer now, “My wolf… he did not like seeing you with Castor in the hot springs. Seeing his mate with another male…”

“Castor’s just a friend,” I said quickly, perhaps too quickly, as I moved to wash his other arm. “Maybe my only friend here, actually.” I couldn’t resist adding, “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind other company yourself the other night.”

Neil’s muscles tensed beneath my hands, his body stiffening. He didn’t respond, but the silence that followed was telling. He had no right to be jealous, mates or not. We both knew that.

“Listen,” Neil said after a long pause, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I know you left people behind. If you want... I could help you contact someone. Just one person, to let them know you are safe.”

I stopped, my hands stilling as I processed his words. The offer caught me off guard, and I found myself struggling to find a response. “You would do that?”

Neil’s eyes were unreadable as he looked up at me. “Just this once, yes. If it will keep people from searching for you.”

His words made me tense a bit. He wasn’t doing this out of his own goodness, but was rather watching out for both our backs. I couldn’t blame him, though. If anyone somehow came looking for me…

I couldn’t bear it if anyone else ended up like that poor pilot.

“Thank you,” I finally whispered, the sincerity of my words surprising even me. The thought of letting someone back home know I was okay, even if I couldn’t tell them everything... it was more than I’d dared to hope for.

I finished washing his arms after that, my muscles aching from kneeling beside the tub for so long. As I rose to my feet, stretching to ease the tension in my back, something caught my eye amongst his discarded clothes. A glint of silver, half-hidden beneath his muddy cloak.

Curious, I crouched down and picked it up—a small silver brooch inlaid with sapphires, a tiny scrap of dark blue fabric still attached to the clasp. I turned it over in my hands, the deep blue gems catching the flickering candlelight.

“Neil,” I said, turning back toward the tub, “who does this belong to?”

But Neil didn’t respond. His head had fallen back against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and deep. He had fallen asleep, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

I stood there for a moment, watching him, the brooch still clutched in my hand. He looked so… peaceful when he slept. The permanent lines etched into his brow seemed to smooth out, and for the first time, I noticed just now long and thick his eyelashes were.

For a moment, he looked just like a young man in his twenties, who had gone through a lot more than he should have at his age. A man who had just lost his fiancée. A man had walked into a burning building to save a baby. A man who was too tired to even clean himself.

Without another word, I set the brooch down gently and slipped out of the room, leaving Neil to rest.