Healer's Touch (2 page)

He hardly recognized the sounds coming from his mouth—anguish and ecstasy intertwined. As his come exploded from the end of his swelling, bucking cock, he choked back a sob and just let all his lust and grief for her pour out of him.

Flecks of stark white spattered to the floorboards to mingle with his tears, and he shook with the heaviness of his guilt. Because it was Viera's face and body that filled his entire awareness like a sun in darkness as he came, and not Zharina's. Not his wife's.

 

Viera sat on the edge of the infirmary bed and tried to control her weeping. Swiping irritably at her tears, she cursed under her breath. Eight hundred years. Eight hundred years. That's how long it was since Aru had last laid eyes on that unfeeling bitch who claimed to be his wife. Eight hundred years since his exile had begun, an exile she had not cared to share with him.

And yet the fool could not bring himself to set her aside. His pointless devotion had been like a sharp pebble in Viera's shoe since the day she'd learned of it—irksome at first, then venturing into the realm of genuine pain, until finally, after their months together, it was like a persistent knot of agony. It offended her as much as a slap in the face from a friend, and part of her couldn't understand why. How had she allowed herself to become so invested in this—in him? How had she allowed an unusual professional arrangement to evolve into…this hideous mess?

But the truth was, in the months they had worked together she'd allowed an affection to develop between them, an attraction, and a depth of emotional attachment she'd long believed impossible for her. She didn't even know what to call it anymore. The ache bloomed in a place she thought had died the day her parents cast her out of their house.

And now he was going to dismiss her. She'd seen it in his face. She had pushed him right to the limit of his self-restraint, and there was no way he could let that stand. He would put her as far away from himself as possible, and go back to his safe, pathetic, solitary penance.

He was fallen, after all. Omahru-azhi. Walking dead. Such creatures did not deserve happiness. Neither did whores.

Lifting the hem of her robe, Viera dried her eyes and willed her tears to stop. Pity, self-directed or otherwise, was an indulgence she couldn't afford. She had always done what needed to be done, and never let herself shed a tear over the inevitable. The path she navigated through life might not be an easy one, but it allowed for some small contentment. She enjoyed her work, not just here in the infirmary, but also in the alleys and taverns of the city. Even if Aru decided she was no longer necessary to him, there was money to be made, fun to be had.

She sighed and forced herself to see that for the lie it was. More and more these last months, she had concentrated her time and attention here with Aru and his patients. She hadn't had occasion to provide her more sordid services to a customer in more than a month. She hadn't, come to think of it, even set foot in her own apartment in nearly a week. Damn it, but it was comfortable here.

Dangerously comfortable. Maybe it was just as well that Aru was about to send her packing.

In the other bed, the injured woman stirred, moaning hoarsely.

Viera's hand went self-consciously to her disheveled hair, then she crossed to the bed and sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress. Gently taking the woman's hand, she waited for her to regain consciousness.

Blonde eyelashes fluttered against pale, pink-freckled cheeks. Eyes of an incongruous dark green fought to focus on Viera's face.

“Where?” Inella croaked.

Viera smiled down at her. “You're safe.”

Inella swallowed with difficulty. Viera knew by now that with the blood she had lost, the woman would be very thirsty. A cup of cool water sat on a narrow table in the sliver of space between the beds. Sliding one arm beneath the woman's shoulders, she held Inella up and put the cup to her lips so she could drink. As Viera settled her back down on the pillow, the woman frowned at her.

“What happened?”

“I only know what I was told. Your house collapsed. It fell in on you.”

The woman's eyes widened. She looked around the room and began to panic when she found it empty. “My children? My mother?”

“They were hurt, but not badly. Your daughter has a broken arm, and they will all need some stitches, but they're otherwise all right. Master Aru sent them on to the Kurgan hospital.”

The young woman's eyes glistened and her chin quivered. “Kurgan?”

Viera patted her hand. “Don't worry, ma'am. They're scary, I know, but there are no better healers than the Kurgae'in. Well…” she smiled, “there is one better, but he was busy. With you.”

Inella tried to sit up, then winced and clapped a hand to her side.

Viera helped ease her back down. “Here, let me look.” Lifting the edge of the blanket, she took in the mottled bruising over the woman's ribs. “Can you breathe without pain?”

“Yes.”

“Your ribs were broken. Aru will have mended the bones, but the muscles around them will still be tender. You're no longer in danger, but you do need rest.” Tucking the blanket back around her, she squeezed the woman's hand and started to rise. “I'll go and get you something to eat—not too much, just a bit of broth for now. And I'll send around to the hospital that you're awake. I'm sure your children will want to see you're safe and sound.”

“Thank you, miss.” The woman's face crumpled and her eyes bled tears.

“Oh my dear, you'll be fine, never fear!” Viera cried, taking both the woman's hands in hers. “You'll see.”

“But—” Inella bit her lip.

“What is it?”

“Well, the Kurgae'in will want to be paid, surely, and your Master Aru too. And I've nothing to pay them with but my clothes and the body in them.”

Viera squeezed her hands and smiled, her heart giving an odd twist. “Don't fret, Inella. My master Aru sees all who have need of him and charges no fee. And the Kurgae'in are…not the monsters people say. They do much good, for little money. Those without means are treated free of charge, or allowed work off their debt in the service of other patients at the hospital. Don't let it worry you. Even if the Kurgan physicians demand payment, I know my master would never leave you in the lurch. All right?”

The woman nodded like a trouper. “All right, miss.”

“Good. Now you rest, and I'll be back in no time at all.”

She stood, smoothing her robe, and turned to head into the kitchen. Aru stood in the doorway, staring at her as if he'd never seen an Anduni woman before. He backed away as she approached and let her pass without a word, but she felt his terrible, beautiful eyes on her back like a caress.

 

He'd come down to dismiss her. Clearly, it was the only thing to do. Get her out of his house, and soon enough she would be out of his head, as well. He had rehearsed the words in his mind, had hardened his heart until he was sure he could resist tears or tantrums or any other form of persuasion she might exhibit. But there was no defense against her quiet, unselfish compassion. Seeing her with the woman, calming her fears, soothing her hurts, had stabbed right through him. He could only watch and be amazed by her.

She was extraordinary.

He had no idea how she could do what she did. How she could be drawn one day, and then the next and the next, and never show any weakness or lasting injury. In the eighteen years since his fall he had never come across anyone with such a deep well of sensuality, or such an affinity for channeling it. It was as if Salgrim himself lived in her very womb.

She was a gift beyond price. She gave Aru back his sense of himself within the universe. With her power at his fingertips, he was as close to immortal as he would ever come again. He couldn't have her, but that didn't mean he could let her go.

He watched as she worked in the kitchen, ladling stock from the pot that continually simmered on the stove and seasoning it with crushed peppercorns, salt, thyme and parsley. Adding some rusks of wheat, she carried the bowl past him where he still stood in the doorway, her eyes flicking briefly to his and then away again.

A spoonful at a time, Viera fed the injured woman. The patient ate what she could, then took some poppy milk and lay down again.

Viera straightened, gathering up dishes. Her gaze lifted to Aru's, but there was nothing of import in it, not a trace of her earlier anger and hurt. “If you don't mind, I was going to go to the market and get a few things. I'll stop at the Kurgan hospital and let Inella's children know they can come visit this evening.”

Aru swallowed past an unexpected thickness in his throat. He had been prepared for tears, for recriminations, for coldness. He hadn't anticipated this bland, detached courtesy. “All right.”

“Is there anything you need from the market?”

So civil. So unreachable. The distance between them widened into a chasm. He shook his head. “Nothing, thank you.”

She nodded and brushed past him to the stairs. Aru stood in the infirmary, alone but for the sleeping woman, and wondered why he felt he had lost something dear.

Chapter Two

Viera was just buttoning her cloak when the bell rang downstairs. Glancing at her face in the priceless glass mirror Aru had bought for her, she squeezed her cheeks to give them a bit of color. Her face looked naked without the paint she used to wear, but the more she saw of it, the more she thought that naked looked pretty good. Her hair, braided into one long plait, hung to her waist, and her dress was modestly cut and of good quality—for all intents and purposes, she looked a perfectly respectable woman out running errands.

A few months could make a big difference.

She descended the stairs with all the dignity her attire demanded. Entering the front hall, she saw who stood in the open doorway shaking hands with Aru, and all pretense of dignity fled.

“Gil!” she squealed in surprised delight, grinning as he winced. Tearing across the room, she pounced on him. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist and her lips fastened onto his with an enthusiasm altogether at odds with the image of the respectable woman.

He tore his mouth away and laughed. “That's quite the welcome, Viera.”

She grinned and kissed him again, longer and more lingering, sliding down his length until her feet touched the floor once more. “God, Gil, you're a sight for sore eyes. Is Lianon here too?”

He winked. “Would you give her the same welcome?”

She thought about it. “I might.”

“Alas for her, then, she couldn't accompany me. One of our mares is foaling.”

Viera pouted. “Pooh. How long are you staying?”

“I head back tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully all the really icky business of equine birth will be done with by then.”

“You're welcome to stay here,” Viera offered, then blushed. Somehow she had slipped effortlessly into the role of lady of the house, when it wasn't her house, and Gil knew she was no lady.

Aru stepped in and saved her from her own big mouth. “Yes, why don't you stay here?”

“No need. I never gave up my old place.”

“It's probably full of vermin after all this time,” Viera pointed out.

Gil smiled with half his mouth. “Rat's been living there, keeping the place up for me.”

Viera laughed. “What did I tell you—full of vermin.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Aru smile as her buoyant mood finally got to him.

“I was just going to go get some supper,” said Gil. “You two want to join me?”

“I have a patient,” Aru declined, his smile vanishing. Viera's stomach did a bizarre little flop at the sight.

“Go,” she said, laying her hand on Aru's arm, trying to ignore the heat that poured through her palm at the contact. “I'll stay here with Inella.”

He stared down at her, his eyes narrowed. Heat flooded her cheeks and she felt a warm pressure building between her legs under his scrutiny. “What about your shopping?”

She drew her hand away, closing her fingers over her palm as if she could hold to the sensation of tingling warmth. “I'll go tomorrow.”

“Come on, old man,” Gil coaxed. “I promise we won't go to Heffie's.”

Aru flashed him a grin. It lit his face, made him so beautiful, Viera's eyes started to sting. Biting back a curse, she blinked the moisture away and forced a smile. “If you could just stop by the hospital and tell Inella's family they can visit. Make sure to give them directions.”

“Thanks, love.” Gil bent and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful, Viera,” he added softly next to her ear. “The new vocation agrees with you?”

She smiled despite a growing urge to crumple and start bawling like an infant. “Very much,” she said truthfully.

He smiled down at her. “I'm glad, love. Really, I am.”

She cleared her throat, her fingernails digging into her palms. “You ought to get going, if you want to get a table. Unless you really are planning on going to Heffie's. Always plenty of empty chairs there.”

“I'll get my coat,” Aru said succinctly.

 

“So, she's living with you now,” Gil said around a mouthful of warm, white bread.

“What?” Aru blurted, caught off guard. On the surface, Gil's eyes were bland and innocent, but Aru knew better. The Emissary had the heightened perceptions of any man who lived by his sword and his wits. “Not exactly. I mean, she still has her own apartment.”

“Really?” Gil dragged his crust through the gravy lining his bowl and popped it in his mouth. “How long since she slept there?”

Aru cringed inside, staring at his own barely-touched platter. The food was very good—this was Judith's, after all—but the idea of putting anything in his stomach was vaguely nauseating. The wine was more than adequate, though. Aru lifted his glass and drained it. “I'm not really sure.”