Lewis had just finished smoothing the cool salve across my burned hand. His fingers moved slowly, almost careful, and the quiet warmth from his skin kept brushing against mine. Weeks ago, I never would've pictured him like this Lewis, kneeling in front of me, tending to me like he actually cared.
"Thank you," I murmured. My voice came out softer than I meant. I tried to pull my hand back and stand.
"Wait."
That single word rolled out of him with a low strength that made something in my chest stiffen. Not a command, but close. I froze and turned around. "What's wrong?"
He didn't move right away. His eyes lifted to mine with that heavy, steady focus only wolves carried the kind that made the air tighten between two heartbeats.
"You think you outplayed Camilla today," he said quietly. "But what if that was exactly what she wanted?"
"What are you trying to say?" I whispered.
