Make Me Feel Again ♕ Geralt Of Rivia

thirteen .

E L E A N O R A

I squint my eyes, raising a hand to shield them from the glaring sunlight that bore down on me.

Finley's barking hits my ear, making it ring. He alternates between loud barks and low growls, but as soon as I sit up, he starts to whine, nuzzling his wet nose against my cheek as his longer flicks out to lick my face. Wiping my brow with the sleeve of my cloak, I let out a sigh of relief. Just a really shitty dream. That's it.

"Hey, Fin." I greet, scratching him behind his ear.

His tail wags back and forth and he rolls onto his back, revealing his belly to me in an open invitation for belly rubs. I oblige, looking around to find myself alone, save for Roach who was tied to a tree.

"Where's Gor?"

Finley lets out a single bark, rolling back onto his feet as he darts down the pathway.

I follow behind him, but we don't get very far as Geralt emerges from behind a couple of bushes with Jaskier following close behind him.

"What the fuck happened to you?" I ask as I take in Geralt's face.

He has a wound on his forehead that looks as if someone took a stick to his head and then another cut across his cheek, both crusted over with blood.

Gor doesn't answer me. Instead, he rushes forward, cupping my face in his hands and eyes scanning over me frantically.

"I tried to wake you up," He says, his voice gruff. "I tried. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Gor. You're the one who's hurt. What happened?"

"We found the devil," Jaskier replies, "It wasn't really a devil."

I frown at Jaskier's statement, "Then what was it?"

"Elves."

"Elves?" I raise my brows at Geralt for some sort of confirmation that Jaskier isn't just bullshitting me for the fun of it, but his eyes remain trained on me.

Instead of answering my question, Geralt cups my face in his hands, his brows creasing with worry. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine, Geralt."

Gor's eyes study my features and he frowns at what he sees like he knows that I wasn't being entirely truthful.

Guilt churns in my gut as Geralt offers me a curt nod filled with resignation. We were both hard-headed beings, both stubborn to the core, and he knows just as well as I do that he wasn't going to get an answer out of me.

I'm not sure why I'd withheld from telling him about the dream, but if his previous reactions to my run-ins with the Ker were anything to go by, I'd say I had good reason. Not that it makes me feel any less shitty about keeping secrets from my best friend.

I've watched Geralt in the past weeks, and I know for a fact that he's keeping something from me too, except, I can't for the life of me figure out what it is.

As I place my hand in Gor's firm grip, allowing him to help me onto Roach's back, ignoring the undeniable chemistry between us, I can't help but wonder when we started keeping secrets from each other and if these secrets were going to be the death of us.