Page 51 of Bitten & Burned

Twenty-Five

SMOKE IN THE WATER

Kravenspire, Sol, Verdune

I awoke to pain, which wasn’t that unusual as of late.

But this was different.

Searing, scalding, consuming pain pulsed in my thigh, wrapping around the bones and radiating outward.

It set my teeth on edge, made every muscle in my body clench like I was about to be struck.

My shoulders throbbed. My neck burned. A cluster headache pounded behind my eyes, every pulse a drumbeat of agony that made me want to burrow back into the dark.

“Rowena?” Quil’s voice—shaky, uncertain—broke through the haze. “Baby, are you—”

“Gods, you have to do more than that, Ashborne…” That was Anton—snapping, pacing, panicking. “She needs blankets, hot water bottles, comfort. Tea… uh… more blankets…”

“I know what she needs,” Quil muttered. “She needs a bath.”

The silence that followed was immediate. Sharp.

Anton growled, “Excuse me?”

“The wound reeks,” Quil said flatly.

“You watch your damn mouth—”

“I’m not trying to be insulting, Anton,” Quil said, holding his ground. “It’s just a fact. The blood’s fresh. Hot. Saturated in the mark. It’s calling. If we don’t muddle the scent, more of them will come. You know I’m right.”

A beat passed.

Then he acquiesced, “You could have led with that.” He was already moving. “I’ll draw the bath.”

Quil exhaled sharply. His hand curled around mine—warm and trembling.

“Baby,” he murmured, lips brushing the back of my hand. “Try and open your eyes, okay? Will you look at me?”

It took effort.

Everything hurt. The weight of my own eyelids heavy like stone. But I forced them open, blinking slowly as my vision swam—first a blur of light and shadow, then sharper. Clearer.

His face came into focus.

Beautiful. Pale. Worry etched into his face like lines in marble.

His dark eyes locked onto mine like a lifeline. Steady. Steeling himself—for me.

“There you are,” he breathed. Relief broke across his face in ripples. He kissed my hand again, slower this time. “You scared me, Rowena.”

“What happened?” My voice was barely recognizable. Shaky. Distant. Like it had been dragged up from the bottom of a well.

“You passed out in the study. Anton was holding you. It was after…” His jaw flexed. “After Rellin opened his mouth.”

“Silas,” I hissed.

The name alone sent a wave of heat through my chest. Not anger—fury. The memory came rushing back all at once: the blood, the horror, the truth.

“This is all his fault,” I rasped. “No—his doing. He set this up. Let it happen. He wanted me broken. Wanted me cornered. Out of options. So I’d cling to him.”

Quil shook his head sharply. “You’re not out of options.”

A tiny meow caught my attention. I looked down, after some tiny claw sounds on the comforter, Fig appeared, meowing and trying to run up to me. I pulled him in for a kiss, leaving him on my chest to play with my hair.

I blinked up at Quil. His hand was still wrapped around mine like it anchored him, too.

“Silas? He didn’t take into account the fact that I—” Quil swallowed. “That we would be here. That we’d be protecting you. He thought you’d be alone. He was wrong.”

His voice was firmer now. Rougher. “We’re not going to let him have you, Rowena. Not ever. You’re safe. You hear me? We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

I closed my eyes for a moment. Let those words sink in. Let myself believe them, even if only for a breath.

Because it was Quil.

And when he said things like that, it felt like they could be true.

“The bath’s ready,” came Anton’s voice from the doorway.

A pause. Then a sharp inhale—half gasp, half prayer.

“She’s awake?” His tone pitched upward. “Rowena, you’re—you're awake?”

He sounded like he didn’t know whether to run to me or sprint for more creature comforts. A tray of tea. Six more blankets. A damn bear pelt and a zillion more pillows.

“Unfortunately,” I rasped, lifting the corners of my mouth into something that could almost be called a smile. “Everything hurts. The man I thought was my mentor wants me broken and bleeding at his feet, and my favorite stockings got torn.”

Fig meowed as if to remind me of what I hadn’t lost.

I smiled and bumped his head gently with mine. “I would never forget you, or what could have happened to you, my sweet baby…”

Anton moved into view, breath catching.

“But yes,” I finished. “I’m awake.”

“The bath’s ready,” Quil echoed, rising smoothly to his feet, and reaching for Fig to plop him safely on the other side of the bed.

I moved to stand on my own, but he was faster.

One moment, I was trying to swing my legs over the side of the bed—the next, I was airborne. Quil scooped me up like I weighed nothing at all. Not a strain. Not a grunt. Just motion. Effortless and strong.

The way he cradled me against his chest—one arm under my knees, the other braced firm around my back—it felt like I wasn’t just something he was carrying. I was something he was guarding.

He let me down in the bathroom, but only to sit on the side of the tub, while he knelt in front of me, to roll down what was left of my stockings. I inhaled his scent.

It all hit so suddenly. So vividly. Gods, he smelled amazing. The bond hummed between us, and I inhaled again, deeper this time. His scent wasn’t just pleasant—it was grounding. Comforting. The one consistent thing besides pain.

Warm spice and something darker. The forest after rain. A flicker of smoke. Salt. Earth. Him.

Quil.

He stood, tossing my ruined stockings into my laundry hamper. When he came back, I embraced him.

I turned my face towards his chest, nuzzled closer, and inhaled deeply.

A soft hum escaped me before I could stop it.

He didn’t speak, just looked at me expectantly.

“Got a little something from the bond,” I whispered.

“Yeah?” He asked. “So did I.” He stroked my cheek. “So glad you’re okay.”

“Is it conceited to say ‘me too’?”

“Fuck no, after what you went through? You’re some kind of miracle, Rowena.”

“Yeah? So are you.”

“Nah,” he said softly. “That’s you.”

“Well, I think you’re miraculous.”

He just leaned forward—forehead against mine and breathed, “I’m trying to believe that.”

Then he exhaled slowly and began peeling the rest of my clothing from me.

Blouse. Skirt. Slip shorts. The torn, ruined stockings. He fumbled a little with the corset, but I helped, unhooking the busk. And tossing it aside. He removed my chemise after, leaving me bare in front of him.

His hands were careful. Reverent. His nostrils flared like he was struggling to breathe evenly, and he couldn’t meet my gaze.

“There,” he said softly. His voice had gone husky. Tight. “You’re ready.”

He reached for me again to lift me into the water.

But I shook my head. “I can stand.”

I couldn’t—not really—but I wanted to try. I didn’t want to be something else he had to manage. Something else that hurt him.

Quil hovered beside me, arms tensed in case I fell, but he didn’t stop me. Just let me do it.

I stepped into the tub. Sank slowly into the water that was nearly too hot.

And shuddered.

Relief blossomed along my spine like a flower blooming from fire. The pain dulled at the edges. The pressure lifted just enough to let me breathe.

I looked down.

The water was already tinged pink. Swirls of red curled from the sigil on my thigh. It didn’t stop bleeding. It just… kept going. As if it had no intention of ever healing.

But I didn’t care.

Not in this moment.

“Does it…” I paused. “Is that why I always stunk to you before?”

Quil blinked, startled. “What?”

I didn’t look at him. “The scent. When you first met me. You always looked like you were trying not to flinch. Also, I heard you tell the others I stunk.”

He exhaled through his nose and sat down beside the tub.

“I guess,” he murmured. “I dunno. I always wondered why I could scent it when the others couldn’t. Thought it was just… me. The way I track things. The way I notice things.”

He tapped his temple lightly, then his nose. “They didn’t smell it. But I could. I always could.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For what?”

“For all of this. For being hard to be near. For making it worse for you.”

He gave a quiet, almost incredulous laugh. “You say that like it’s not pleasant for me.”

“It’s not, though,” I said, looking up. “Right?”

“It is. And it isn’t,” he said. “If it wasn’t you? I’d hate it. I’d want to be as far away as possible.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on the water instead of my face.

“But it is you. And that makes it harder. And better. All at once.”

I swallowed.

“I just have to keep my teeth to myself,” he added, voice raspier now. “Which is… difficult. When you’re so naked and beautiful.”

“Oh,” I said softly, startled by the heat that bloomed in my chest.

He didn’t elaborate.

Didn’t have to.

The silence between us shifted—no longer heavy, but humming.

And then:

“Is the temperature alright, darling?”

Anton.

He stepped fully into view—still bloodied from neck to waist, but his hands…

His hands were clean.

So clean they almost looked wrong. Like they’d been scrubbed raw beneath the nails. Like he couldn’t bear the thought of touching me with anything that had touched them.

“It’s a little too hot,” I said, voice thin but steady. “But that’s just where I need it to be… to scrub all of this off my skin.”

“Let me do that, darling.” Anton knelt beside the tub and picked up a sponge with those immaculate hands. “You just lie there and be beautiful.”

Quil made a disgusted sound. “Gods, you’re insufferable when you’re in love.”

Anton chuckled. “You say that as if you don’t worship the ground she bleeds upon.”

“No, I said it because it’s true. You’re insufferable. I just never said I wasn’t.”

Anton dipped the sponge into the water and brought it to my face, gently washing away the blood that had dried along my cheek and jaw. His eyes—blue-green, luminous—had settled again. Calm. Beautiful. No trace of the rabid, savage predator I’d seen only hours before.

I tilted my head towards him.

“I love you like this,” I said softly. “And I love you like that as well.”

I reached up and dragged my wet fingers across his upper arm, leaving clean streaks through the caked-on gore.

He inhaled sharply and dunked the sponge again. “I’m flattered that you do,” he murmured, “but I don’t wish to unveil that particular side of myself ever again, Rowena.”

“And I told you before,” I said, watching him. “If it means I live to see this side of you again? You unveil anything you need to.”

His jaw flexed, eyes shining with something he didn’t say aloud. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Then he reached for my leg.

The sigil.

He rubbed the sponge over it as gently as he could—but I still winced.

He frowned immediately. “It’s still bleeding.” Another pass of the sponge. Another pink swirl in the water. “It hasn’t stopped. It should’ve stopped by now, shouldn’t it?”

“It’s activated, remember?” Quil said quietly from behind us.

We both turned.

“As you said, but what does that mean?” Anton asked.

“The sigil,” Quil repeated. “It’s a mark of ownership. And it’s been activated.”

I blinked. “Because I took off the amulet?”

Quil shook his head. “That wouldn’t have any bearing on it. It’s been physically activated, so it’s bleeding. Calling.”

He looked down at the tub. The blood still curling from my leg.

“Calling to what?” Anton asked, jaw tense.

I already knew the answer.

“To your blood,” I said.

Quil’s eyes met mine.

“To my blood,” he confirmed. “To their blood. Ashborne blood.”

“Is that why you smell so good right now?” I whispered, alarmed.

Quil shrugged. “I dunno. Never asked the steer if it made us smell better. But I imagine it has something to do with it.”

“So… what in the hells does that mean?” Anton asked, his voice sharp. “How do we stop it?”

Quil shrugged. “I don’t know. Whoever controls it would have to stop it.”

“Or die?” Anton murmured.

“That’d do it,” Quil replied evenly.

Anton’s jaw clenched. “That can certainly be arranged.”

“I don’t want him to just stop it,” I said softly, fingers curling around the edge of the tub. “I want him to remove it. I want it gone.”

Anton turned to Quil. “Is that possible?”

Again, Quil shrugged. “I never learned how to make them. I don’t know what all goes into it.

I saw them do it before… They made this…

dust… ground with glass? That was so it’d tear the skin and open the bloodstream.

They’d put it on these big blankets and flap them at the livestock in the field.

All of them would fall. And when they got up, they’d have… those on their haunches.”

I frowned. “Right before it appeared on my leg… I accepted a book from Silas. One that he was checking for curses. He told me to go to a specific page. That there’d be something there that interested me. I did, and I remember sneezing right after… My nose hurt… like a sinus infection.”

Quil sighed. “Yeah, that’d be it.”

Silence settled between us—thick, wet, heavy with truth.

I leaned my head back against the rim of the tub, eyes closing as warmth crept up my neck.

“I’m going to find out,” I said. “I want it gone.”

The words came out low, ragged.

“Even so, it’s still… calling,” Quil mumbled, his eyes dropped to the water. Still tinged pink. Drops of blood still curling like smoke in the water. “You’re not safe here,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“So what do we do?” Anton asked, “Take her away from here? I have that apartment in Serpentine Bay, I could take her there.”

“No,” Quil said roughly. “She needs a bigger city. Caer Voss.”

“So I’ll go with her back to Caer Voss,” Anton said, looking between us. “I do well in the city. I do well everywhere.”

“Can you do well here while I go with her to Caer Voss?” asked Quil. “Because Cassian will need you here.”

“Cassian will do fine without me.”

“I’m going with her,” Quil hissed.

“I can do that too, and I’m older, so it’s scarier,” Anton hissed in reply.

“Okay, okay… stop it…” I said, sitting up. “Quil, why are you the one who’s going with me?”

“I’m an Ashborne. I know their tactics.”

Anton groaned. “Fuck, he’s right.”

I reached for Anton, who ducked his head so I could run my fingers through his hair, which, even though it was caked in blood, was still annoyingly perfect. “I’m sorry, Anton…”

“I just want you safe…” He turned to Quil, “You’ll keep her safe, won’t you? I’d feel better if someone else was going… just… safety in numbers, you know?”

Quil shrugged. “I’ll protect her with my life, but if she wants someone else and doesn’t mind if I ask him, I think Vael would be helpful…”

They both looked at me. I blinked and then nodded. “Ask him.”

“Consider it done.”

I exhaled. I just wanted to be safe with all of them. Was that too much to ask?