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“No. You’re not fine,” he retorted.
Gwen let out a breath and winced. “Please,” she pleaded, even though she knew he was right.
Barith still looked annoyed, but his expression softened a little. He rubbed his hand through his thick auburn beard and revealed a wicked grin that made Gwen narrow her eyes with caution. “I suppose you’ll be needing some help.” His words were laced with scandalous amusement. “I’ve not given many sponge baths, but I’m always up for a bit of practice.”
Gwen scowled. “I can bathe myself, thanks,” she clipped.
His grin turned smug. “You can barely lift your arms.”
Out of sheer defiance, Gwen shifted her legs out of bed and very, very rockily grabbed the bedside table to keep herself upright. To her relief, she didn’t immediately fall over onto the floor, though she was sure if she took a step, she would.
Barith tilted his head, seemingly undecided if he was entertained or pissed at her determination. He let out a huff. “Sit down,” he told her. She did, but only because her legs locked up.
“You might be nearly as stubborn as Levian, and that’s no compliment,” he told her.
“And you’re the king of compromise?” she shot back.
Barith smiled at that, no longer wicked but genuine. “I am these days, it seems.”
For whatever reason, it struck her suddenly that Barith was here, not Levian or Niah or someone else. “Did you sit with me the whole time?” she asked him.
His sun-kissed cheeks flushed a touch pink. “Mostly,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing his hand through his tousled hair and over the back of his neck. “Levian came to tend to your wounds and such, but I volunteered to keep an eye on you. We didn’t think you should wake and find yourself alone.”
Tears threatened, and Gwen tried to will them away. She was tired and overwhelmed, but their care pricked her. She fiddled with the edge of the comforter. “Look, Barith,” she started, not entirely sure how to say what she wanted to say. “Thanks.” Her throat grew tight with emotion. “For watching out for me. I’m used to being on my own, and it’s kind of weird for me—having you all around.”
“Och,” Barith replied, shifting anxiously. “Dinnae flap.” Gwen sniffled, a little confused by the sudden thickness of his Scottish brogue. “Yer—” He smirked warmly, clearing his throat. “You’re one of us,” he declared, trying to dampen the lilt. “We’re a rougher lot than you’re used to, I’m guessing, but we look out for each other. This might’ve been about the contract at the start, but we like ye, lass. We would’ve gone through that mirror after you too if we could’ve.”
The genuineness in his voice pushed her tears even closer to the edge.
“Sirus has saved my arse and Levian’s more times than I can count,” he went on. “It was hard to see him as he was.” His soft expression darkened. “It was hard to watch him tear at you the way he did too.”
Gwen looked down at her lap. For as playful and flirtatious as Barith was, Gwen knew it was just his nature to tease. She’d never felt any true interest from Barith other than curiosity and friendliness. He was close with Sirus, but it tugged at her heart hearing the protectiveness in his voice toward her. He’d watched over her while she lay unconscious for days. She’d seen the relief in his eyes when she woke. She remembered his snarls of protest when they’d let Sirus tear into her arm. How he’d carried her away.
“I had to,” she told him. “I had to try.”
“No,” he said flatly, the rumble in his voice startling. “You didn’t.” She glanced up, and he let out a heavy breath. “You didn’t,” he said again, softening, “but you did anyway, and he’s alive thanks to you.”
The memory of it all was still fuzzy, but Gwen remembered that much. How resigned the others had been to Sirus’s imminent death. How desperate she’d been to do something—anything—to save him. Offering her blood was the least she could have done, considering he’d nearly gotten himself killed for her—because of her. She was terrified to tell Sirus the truth of what she’d done, but she had to see him. To see with her own eyes that he wasn’t still writhing in the bed covered in blood.
For a moment, Barith watched her appraisingly, searching her face. Soon he let out a heavy breath. “He came to see you yesterday. Stayed for a while.”
A little shiver spread over her. Gwen swallowed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Barith replied with a smirk.
Gwen took in a breath to speak but let the air fall from her lungs. It made sense. Sirus probably felt obligated to visit her. There was no reason to read into it. Yet she couldn’t help the little rise of butterflies in her belly knowing he’d come. Had he just hung out with Barith? Had he come to her bedside? Had he touched her or said anything to her? Gwen mindlessly ran her fingers over the bandage on her arm.
The dragon cleared his throat delicately, drawing her out of her head. “I’ll go get Levian,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help with your bath. Unless you’ve changed your mind and would rather have my help?” He smiled that devilishly beautiful smile of his, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up over his muscled forearms.
Gwen set him with a stern look, but she couldn’t hold back her own smile. Barith really was shameless, though they both knew he was only doing it to get a rise out of her and lighten the mood.
“Fair enough,” he said with an overly dramatic sigh and a resigned shrug. “I would’ve chosen her over me too.”
When he was gone, Gwen leaned delicately back into the covers and looked over her hands. The levity Barith had brought slowly evaporated. It all felt like a bad dream. A flash of Sirus with that sword lodged in his middle made her chest tighten. She closed her eyes and let out a deep, steadying breath, trying to push the memory away. A recollection of his lips against hers sent a surge of heat pulsing through her core. Her eyes flew open. That also felt like a distant dream.
Gwen errantly ran her fingers over her lips. She knew she should be mad for how he’d abandoned her after their embrace in the garden. At the time, she’d been so furious she’d prayed for something horrible to happen to him. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She’d wanted him to pay for being such an ass, but not to nearly die. So much had happened in that one night. So much had changed. She had changed.
She let out a deep breath full of more emotions than she knew what to do with. She’d been convinced Sirus hadn’t thought of her as anything more than a nuisance. A contract and nothing more. A thorn to be removed. Gwen had known it was dangerous to want him. Dangerous to blend the fantasy and reality of what he really was. It had sent a thrill through her when she’d sensed that he wanted her in the garden. That someone like him could desire someone like her. A tension spread low in her stomach. He’d set fire to her, and she’d been more than willing to burn. Her open vulnerability had startled her. Then he’d pushed her away like she was nothing, and everything after that had only gotten worse.
