Synching With the Devil's Son

Chapter 12

Lucien's P.O.V.

I smile at the roughness of her voice. "You were screaming like a banshee when I pulled you from the bushes, so try to rest your vocal cords," I tell her softly. She looks so forlorn, so childlike, that it tugs on my heartstrings. I've never felt this way before, have never been in a position to comfort someone rather than torture them, and I find I really like it. I remove the compresses I've been holding on her legs to gauge whether they've stopped bleeding or not. Both of them have sealed tight as far as I can tell, and shouldn't cause her any more trouble. I toss the ruined fabric away and move to check the gash on her arm. It also seems to have stopped bleeding, so I smile and look at the compress she's holding on her face. "One more," I say gently, reaching for the compress she's holding over her eye. Upon examination, I can tell it's still seeping, so I put her hand back over it and return to the water to get a clean compress. I switch the strips of fabric out and sit quietly with her while she puts pressure on it again. She has remained silent, watching me carefully as I sit on my haunches beside her. "Can I see it again?" I ask her a few minutes later, moving so I am crouching in front of her. When she takes the fabric off her face, I can see it's still bleeding and I frown. I can make it stop, I can use my powers and cauterize the blood vessels without leaving a scar. I look into her eyes and say, "You're still bleeding, but I can make it stop. Do you trust me?" At her look of apprehension I take her hand in mine and rub my thumb slowly over her knuckles. "I promise you it won't hurt." She looks at me with such trepidation, such fear that I feel a surge of protectiveness overcome me. She looks down at our joined hands then back into my eyes and nods slowly. I smile at her. "Close your eyes," I tell her gently, and watch her eyelids close over her beautiful hazel eyes, relaxing under my gaze. She trusts me, and that tenuous trust makes my insides quiver. Nobody has ever trusted me, or spent the time to get to know me enough to trust me. I swallow audibly, and place my hands over both her cheeks. She opens her eyes immediately at the contact, so I smile at her. "It's okay, close your eyes," I instruct her softly. She does, but not before holding onto my wrists with her small hands. When I think she's relaxed enough, I gently probe around her wound, shushing her softly when she winces. I can sense how deep I need to send my powers, so I warm my fingers and pass them over the wound. Her breathing doesn't change and she's still sitting there quietly, holding my wrists, until I tell her I'm all done. She opens her eyes as I dab her face with the wet cloth, cleaning up the rest of the dried blood. She looks at me with such tenderness, a look nobody has ever given me except my Mother. I'm staring at her like she's a treasure, my treasure, and the realization startles me. I smile gently at her and release her face, getting my feet under me so I can stand up. She probably wants to head back to camp to get out of her filthy clothes, so I hold my hand out for her so I can pull her to her feet.