“Now then,” Valen said, looking down at the little Elite. “Let’s have a look at you. Where did he hurt you—are you wounded besides your arm?”
“I…he…” She looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “I feel faint,” she whispered.
Valen was momentarily alarmed out of his irritation.
“You’re losing too much blood,” he said sharply. Indeed, it was the sweet, maddening scent of her blood that had drawn him to her—that and the sound of her shouts and screams. He’d already been halfway down the concourse when he’d heard and smelled her, and had turned around to go back and find out what was happening.
“He cut me,” she whispered. “When he cut off my…my Seal of Independence.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh my God—my Seal! I have to go back for it!”
She started to get up, but Valen took her by the shoulder and pushed her back down on the couch, gently but firmly.
“After we tend to your wounds,” he said frowning.
“But I can’t make it here without the Seal!” she protested. “Now I know why all those other women in the bathroom were wearing those clear bracelets over their Seals—so they couldn’t be cut off! It’s probably lying on the ground out in that hallway where…where he…he grabbed me…”
Suddenly her lovely face crumpled and her big, brown eyes filled with tears.
“Oh my God, I thought…thought he was going to…to kidnap me and I’d n-never get home again,” she choked out. “I thought I’d never see Earth again!”
“You will, though,” Valen said, frowning. He disliked seeing her so upset, but he was more worried about her physical wounds than her emotional trauma at the moment. She really was losing blood at an alarming rate. “Look, I can heal this for you, if you’ll let me,” he told her, nodding at her bleeding arm. “But I won’t do it without your consent.”
“Heal me? How?” She shook her head, her eyes wet, her face dazed. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything today. This was supposed to be some kind of amazing vacation but it’s turned into a complete nightmare.”
Valen had the unfamiliar urge to comfort her—he certainly didn’t have much experience in comforting females, since he mostly avoided them. But the scent of her blood called to him, and he was genuinely worried that she was losing too much of her precious life fluid.
“Just give me your consent,” he said, frowning. “I promise it won’t hurt.”
“All…all right.” She nodded, her brown eyes still bright with tears. “I guess so.”
“Thank you,” Valen said. And bending over her outstretched arm, he started at the wrist and licked a long, slow trail all the way up to her elbow.
11
Selena stared in incomprehension as the big Kindred started licking her arm. What was he doing? And wasn’t all the blood grossing him out?
She knew it certainly grossed her out—she wasn’t usually squeamish but her arm was downright gory where she’d been cut. She turned her head, trying not to look as he continued to stroke his tongue over her wounded flesh. What if it was really deep? What if she needed stitches? No, no—she didn’t want to see…didn’t want to know. She concentrated on clutching her right arm over her bare breasts, wishing again, with all her heart, that she was wearing a freaking bra!
But then a new fear came to her. She used her left hand for fingering the strings on the fingerboard of her violin when she played. What if the knife wound had injured some of the tendons in her wrist? Would it affect her ability to play?
Anxiously, she turned back to the sight of the big Kindred who had claimed he could heal her, examining the underside of her forearm. Or what she could see of it, anyway—he was bent over her arm, obscuring her view.
“Is it very deep?” she asked anxiously, hoping she wouldn’t start crying again if he answered in the affirmative. “Did…did he cut the tendons?”
“Hmm…I don’t think so. Have a look for yourself.” The big Kindred sat up and nodded down at her arm.
Apprehensively, Selena looked to the spot where he had been licking—he had cleaned off the blood really well, she saw. There was hardly a drop left on her arm and wrist.
To her surprise, instead of the deep slice in her forearm that had been there before, she now saw only a faint pink line.
“Oh my God,” she said blankly. “You really did it—you really healed me. How did you do that?”
“I’m a Pitch-Blood Kindred. It’s one of my…abilities,” he said in that short, clipped, almost British accent of his. “You said you were worried about tendon damage. Try to wiggle your fingers,” he added, nodding at her hand.
Hesitantly, Selena tried wiggling her fingers—which were still damp and sticky with blood—since he had mainly been working on her arm and wrist. To her relief, they all seemed to be working normally. She touched the tip of each finger to her thumb and looked up at Valen in wonder.