Page 62 of The Incendiary

“I’m fine, Ella.” I flattened her hand between my palms and stroked her knuckles with my thumb to calm her, then peered over the arch of my shoulder. The skin was bright red and indented where the outer layer had melted away. It was gruesome, but I’d seen skin charred deep enough to reveal bone.

“But I hurt you!” Her wide, fearful eyes reached places inside me I didn’t know existed. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her distraught or the first time I wanted to kill whoever made her so distraught. Only this time, that person was me.

“I’ve been burned plenty of times before,” I chuckled. “I’m a blacksmith, remember? Besides, you’ve marked me.”

“What?” she croaked. “What do you mean?”

I cupped her face. “I mean I want every part of you I can get. I want your mark on me.”

Every time I looked at the scar, I would remember this moment. Her in a light cotton dress, bare feet dangling in the water, silver-blond hair mussed from my hands and damp with sweat at her temples, flyaway hairs glowing around her heart-shaped face like a halo. The freckles over the bridge of her nose, her lips swollen from my mouth, curved into the most breathtaking smile I had ever and would ever see.

Those green, gold-specked eyes that saw me as more than just a bastard blacksmith.

If ever she decided to leave me and move on to something or someone better—though I detested the thought—I would cherish these moments with her for the rest of my life.

“If a little pain is all it takes for this day with you to be permanently seared in my brain, I will endure it a hundred times over.”

Ella stared at me, watery eyes wide, like she couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. That was fine. I would keep saying them anyway.

“Come on.” I waded backward, motioning for her to follow. “Get in the water.”

“I think it should be tended to.”

I stared down at the burnt flesh. “Well, I⁠—”

“Come here.” She waved me back, and I obeyed, unable to resist her pull. “It’ll still leave a scar, but let me heal it enough so you don’t get an infection.”

Of course. She was a living, breathing repository of divine power, and healing was one that seemed the most her. She healed my cold, jagged heart simply by existing. It was only natural she would be capable of healing every other part of me, too.

For the third time this afternoon, she showed me power, and this one seemed the most effortless. No flames or water or light, just a hint of jasmine lingering in the air. Warmth rushed through my veins, and the burn subsided. I glanced and saw the burn wasn’t red, just scarred over. Absolutely miraculous.

But when I looked at her, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and her body swayed. My hands shot out to steady her while a warning stirred in my gut, demanding attention.

I didn’t like the way her cheeks had lost color. Her eyes were still bright, but her skin was pale. I didn’t like that one fucking bit.

“What just happened?” I snapped.

“I healed your burn the same way my body healed this. See?” She tugged the collar of her dress down just enough to fully reveal the scar from when she’d been stabbed as an infant.

“No.” I searched her eyes. “What happened to you?”

She stared back, unwavering. “Nothing.”

“No. I saw it. I see it. You healed me, and it was like you… lost some of your light.”

Her responding smile was soft, but sad. “I know you’re worried, but it’s temporary.”

“What’s temporary?”

She waved it off like I shouldn’t be concerned. “When I heal, it takes something out of me. It’s the only power of the twelve that drains me in that way. Simeon thinks it’s because it’s the only power that actually takes my life force. Like losing blood.”

Losing blood? Her life force? “Well, don’t ever heal me again,” I ordered.

She tilted her head. “Pardon?”

So damn polite. I took her chin firmly but gently between my fingers and stared her down. “Do not ever compromise your health, your strength, your safety, or anything at all for me, ever again. Do you understand?”

“No.” She was indignant. “I won’t agree to that.”