Page 50 of If I Were Wind

15. Fear

ROY LAY ON the bed as pale as starlight. His skin seemed carved out of marble, a stark contrast to his bright red clothes. Blood soaked his shirt. Only a few white spots remained. It was impossible to see where he was wounded.

“Roy,” I whispered, pushing down the choking sensation seizing me by the throat.

A doctor in a white coat stained with blood was bending over Roy but straightened when I entered. Blimey. I hadn’t even seen him.

“Doctor Stone? This is Miss Kristin Easterwood.” Miss Hammond brushed her wild tendrils from her face. “She’s the only one who has ever merged with Roy. She can heal him, but your guidance might be useful.”

Doctor Stone gave a curt bow of his head, pressing a wad of gauze to Roy’s chest. “Miss Easterwood.” He sounded drained of energy.

I staggered to Roy’s bedside as fast as I could, but my legs had turned into lead. “What’s the problem with him? What happened?”

The doctor rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. “Roy has a deep cut on his chest that has caused major bleeding. You’ll need to seal it first before taking care of his other wounds.” He pulled apart the lapels of Roy’s shirt, revealing his devastated flesh and broken skin. My stomach churned. “The other wounds, while deep, are of minor concern. When you heal the slash in the chest, be careful to clean it thoroughly, so that no infection starts. He can survive if the wound doesn’t develop an infection. Have you ever healed anyone?”

I wriggled my numb hands. “No. But he healed me a few times.”

The doctor frowned, tired eyes searching my face. “Even if you seal the wound, it doesn’t mean that the bleeding has stopped. The more you work on a wound, the better it heals. Don’t trust your eyes. With practice, you’ll understand when a wound is completely sealed. Keep healing him until his skin returns warm and his pulse is stable. Is that clear?”

I nodded, fear clogging my throat. If I made a mistake… No, I shouldn’t contemplate defeat. Roy needed me.

Miss Hammond patted my shoulder. “You know what to do, darling. We’ll leave you two alone and I’ll make sure that no one disturbs you. The doctor has many other patients to attend.”

“But if you need help,” Doctor Stone said, “go to the staff room. One of the nurses will get me or another doctor as soon as possible.”

I nodded, struggling to keep up.

Miss Hammond paused on the threshold. “By the way, you’ll find water, food, and clean clothes for him and you in the staff room in case you need them.”

“Th-thanks.” I bit down a sob.

After the doctor hurried out of the room and she shut the door behind me, semidarkness fell over the bed. Dread gripped me when I lowered over Roy’s motionless body. His head was tilted to the side, and his brows were pulled together, as if he were thinking about something that bothered him.

“I’m here, Roy.” I was sure that his panther could feel me.

I pressed my mouth against the slash on his chest and caressed it with my tongue, expecting a wave of nausea at the taste of blood. Instead, my beast roared and howled in pain for Roy, drinking the blood up, asking for more. It didn’t taste like my blood, coppery and salty, but it was rich and strong like a well-aged Bordeaux.

Tiny sizzles stung my lips as the wound started healing and the skin swelled. The edge I was taking care of turned a healthy shade of pink, and the flesh smoothed. Whatever had hurt him, it hadn’t been the fire. Something sharp and long had dug into his chest.

As my beast nearly took me over in excitement, I lapped at the blood, stroking the torn flesh with my lips. A tangy flavour filled my mouth; the quick healing of his skin emitting a faint hiss. The blood stopped oozing when I focused on a particularly rough and deep spot. The careful lashes of my tongue left behind unblemished skin, a bit raw and pink, but not bleeding or sliced.

I paused to check the wound. Red and swollen, a stripe of skin ran along the edge of the cut. The gash was sealed. When he’d healed me, nothing was left of my injuries aside from faint pink lines. After I drank a glass of water, I started again. Working on the red skin, I took care of every inch of it. The blood was gone, and Roy’s spicy taste flavoured my mouth. Warmth spread through his skin at each stroke of my tongue.

As I pushed aside the soaked shirt, more cuts appeared. Some were mere scratches, but others were deep enough to need stitches. A lump of sorrow crawled up to my throat.

“What happened to you?” I whispered, caressing his broad chest.

I straddled him, bowing over him to reach a cut right under his nipple. Velvety and intense, the taste of blood was driving my beast crazy with lust. She scratched at my chest, urging me to free her, but I pushed her down, not sure I could heal Roy in my beast form or if I was too aroused. At the moment, worry was all that filled me. Ignoring the heated tingling in my body was easy for now.

A superficial wound slashed his side. I licked it clean before returning to the main injury once again. Inside me, my beast growled and cried out, fuelling my energy in a mix of longing and desperation.

Another cut on his abdominal muscles required three passes before it sealed, leaving unblemished skin behind. My best healing achievement so far. There was something else though, growing in my chest, aside from my beast’s eagerness. Something that burned my cheeks with shame.

The more I kissed and tongued Roy’s sculpted muscles, the more an illicit throb started between my legs, spreading throughout my body. It was sheer, undiluted lust. No point in denying it. I savoured every inch of him while desire rode me hard. It was difficult to concentrate. And utterly wrong. The man was at risk of losing his life, and I was lusting after him. Conflicting emotions were waging a battle in my chest, but I still did the job.

Had he felt like that when he’d healed me? Had he wanted me that much? The receiving end of the healing was ecstatic, a full body and mind experience. Completely sensual. I’d shamelessly moaned and writhed under his ministrations. I hadn’t expected that healing him would be the same.

It was as if my beast couldn’t get enough of his skin, taste, and blood. In a frenzy, I ran my tongue over every cut and bruise on his torso until not a single drop of blood was left, not a single slash marred his skin. I removed his shoe, one was missing, and yanked down his torn trousers. His powerful legs had minor scratches, but for a cut in his thigh that went deep into the quadriceps. As I licked and healed it, metallic shards came out of the cut and clattered to the floor. I picked them out whenever I found them. Glass, steel, and wood had stabbed his flesh, tearing sinews and flesh. Fighting a fresh wave of tears, I kept healing the wound, careful to remove every single piece of foreign material. I hoped I was doing a good job so that he wouldn’t develop septicaemia.