Heathen

|05|

Barre

     Elodie. A name to go with her beautiful face.

     I dig through my medical supplies, pushing aside bandages and ointments. I never use this safety kit since I am rarely injured, but I am glad that I have it now.

     The female, Elodie, isn't severely hurt, for which I'm thankful. After taking care of her first injury, I need to address the next one. Her ankle.

     I hadn't noticed the sprain until she came into my kitchen, blanket held tightly to her neck as if it would somehow protect her. She kept her weight off her right leg completely, favoring her left.

     My eyes are trained to look for weakness or injuries. Being a gladiator and a hunter, this skill has allowed me to seek out my prey's weak spot to make a quick and easy kill.

     Now I'm using this skill for the complete opposite. I'm using it for healing, for protecting. It's... strange.

     I make eye contact with Elodie, and her eyes are calm. I silently ask for permission as I motion to her hurt leg. She nods her head, pulling away her blanket and the skirt of her dress.

      I gulp as she exposes her pale legs to me. She's making herself vulnerable to me, trusting that I will not take advantage.

     Lifting her calf, I examine the injury. I notice the brown flecks decorating her skin continue all the way down to her little toes. They are all over her body. I've discovered that they're not pieces of dirt, but it's just how she looks. There's nothing wrong with them.

     It's very odd, but fascinating. They're beautiful. She's beautiful.

     Her ankle is swollen and angry, the bones feel delicate under my fingers. Her foot is so tiny in my hand, but the shape is no different than my own. Five toes, toenails, and a heel. But she is also different in many ways.

     I grab an elastic bandage, placing her foot gently on my shoulder to keep it in place as I wrap her injury. Setting her ankle takes no time at all, but I find myself drawing it out. I want an excuse to be touching for as long as I can.

     She has no clue, no idea how tempting she is to me. She stumbled into my lands. She practically fell into my lap. Most males would see her as a gift, a reward, ripe for the plucking. Many would try to lure her into becoming their mate. Elodie is vulnerable and trusting. I could easily take advantage of her.

     But I will not.

     I may not be as worthy as a palace warrior, but I have honor. Just because I am a heathen, a gladiator, a killer, that doesn't make me a monster.

     And not to mention that I am completely undeserving of something as sweet as Elodie. I should not even be touching someone so precious, even to mend her wounds. My hands are dirty, my past muddy, but I still find myself wanting. And oh, how I want her.

     Once her ankle is sufficiently wrapped, I let her foot slide down my chest. I stare into her green eyes. Even under her smile, I detect her fear. She was afraid in those woods, trembling when I touched her, jumping at little noises.

     Something, or someone, scared her. She was crying. She was hurt. The thought makes me tense with anger.

     Elodie makes a mewl, taking her foot out of my lap and leaning away from me. She sees my fury, feels the rage that is surely leaking off of me in waves. The female has no idea that my deadly demeanor is not directed at her.

     And I have no way of telling her.

     Instead, I try to calm down. I hate seeing her afraid, especially when it's me that she's afraid of.