Page 171 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Sit," I tell him, nodding toward the edge of the bed.

He doesn't look sure, but he sits.

I grab the first aid kit and bring it over, settling onto my knees in front of him on the mattress.

"Let me change these," I say, switching on the light by the bed.

His blue eyes flick to the amber light, then the kit. His hand drifts toward the scarf, but stops. He doesn't pull it down, his eyes sliding away.

I reach up and do it for him.

He lets me.

The dark fabric slides free, pooling around his neck. The bandages beneath are all fucked up at the edges.

"This might sting a little," I warn him. "Stay still."

He nods once.

I carefully peel the first strip of medical tape away from his jaw. He flinches, but holds still.

I work slowly. The old gauze comes away in sections. Some of it peels off clean. Some of it sticks where dried blood and plasma has stuck it in place, and I dampen those spots with saline solution from the kit, letting it soften before easing the gauze free.

Wraith doesn't make a sound.

His eyes are closed. His hands rest loosely on his thighs, and his broad shoulders rise and fall with slow, even breaths, like he's gone somewhere else in his mind.

I wish he'd open his eyes so he could see I'm not afraid.

I set the used gauze aside and reach for a fresh antiseptic wipe. I dab it around his stitches, careful not to get it on his teeth or gums.

He flinches again.

"Sorry," I murmur.

His hand rises and signs, I-T-S… O-K.

"Almost done."

I clean the rest of the area with careful strokes, watching his face for signs of pain beyond the small twitches. The stitches look good. No redness, no swelling. Plague really does know what he's doing.

When I reach for the fresh gauze and bandages, I pause.

There's enough here to mummify a horse. Rolls upon rolls of the stuff, plus extra tape, plus adhesive pads in multiple different sizes. I look at the pile, then at Wraith's face.

He really only needs them on one side. The stitched area where the scar tissue split needs protection. But the rest… Plague used extra so Wraith could cover up more. A kindness disguised as medical necessity.

I bandage the sutured area. Clean gauze, secured with medical tape, pressed gently into place along his left jaw where the split happened.

When I set the roll down, Wraith's eyes crack open.

He looks warily at me. Those blue eyes, bright even in exhaustion, searching my face with the desperate attention of someone who's spent his entire life preparing for terrible reactions.

"There," I say softly, smiling and kissing the tip of his nose. He blinks in surprise. "Done."

His hand slides toward the scarf.

But it drops back to his thigh.