Page 117 of Galen

“Clara?” he asked in shock, looking from her to me. “What are you doing here?”

I hadn’t had the chance to explain it to him yet.

“To help,” she said, going over to him. Her gaze moved to me. “Gray is fine, by the way. Fast asleep.”

“So he’s okay?” Simon asked. “Belphegor was pissed when he heard Gray was hurt. No one told us what happened though.”

Belphegor was angry about it? Perhaps a part of him still cared about his son, but it didn’t change the fact that he was our enemy.

Clara touched Simon’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Youareokay, right?” She looked him over before grabbing his left hand. “What’s this?”

“Nothing.” He moved it away from her before glancing over at me.

Well, that’s not suspicious at all…

“Simon…” I spoke.

He winced when Clara took hold of it again. Blood stained the cloth, and fresh anger stirred inside me as Simon whimpered in pain.

“I didn’t want you to know,” Simon told me, perspiration beading on his brow. Was he clammy? Paler than usual, maybe? “Not until I knew you had a better control over Wrath.”

Clara sucked in a breath as she drew back the last layer of wrapping. Red spots danced at the corners of my vision as I stepped closer and saw his hand—and what was left of his index finger.

“Who did it?” I growled. “I will fucking tear them to pieces.”

“See?” Simon frowned. “You’re getting angry again.”

“How could I not be? Look at you!” My voice boomed around the kitchen.

“It was either this or have me explode like a Simon grenade. What would you prefer?”

“The fuckers didn’t even bother stitching you up.” Clara shook her head. “You need to go to the hospital. The wound needs to be cleaned and closed before rot sets in.”

Simon curled his lip at that and paled even more. That’s when it hit me that he’d been in pain this whole time. But he’d kept it from me.

“Stop that,” Simon said, reaching over with his right hand and linking our fingers. “Soldiers get wounded in battle all the time. They lose entire hands, arms, and legs. I only lost a finger. I’ll live.”

He was right. It could’ve been worse. So much worse. What would I have done if Simon had been killed? The answer was obvious. I would’ve never made it out of the underworld. Wrath would’ve had to be put down and me with him.

“My brave little soldier,” I said, bringing our joined hands up to place a kiss on his knuckles. I then grabbed his injured hand and clasped it in mine. “A hospital won’t be necessary.”

Light burst from the gaps in our fingers as I used my healing power on him. The skin knitted itself back together, and the puffy redness eased. When I pulled away, it looked as if he’d gotten the injury weeks ago rather than hours.

“Nice,” Clara said with an appreciative nod.

“I can’t make your finger grow back, I’m afraid. But it shouldn’t hurt anymore.”

Simon rested his head on my shoulder. “Just another scar to go with the others.”

I ran him a hot bath and carried him to the tub. After stripping off his clothes and setting him down into the water, I removed his glasses and grabbed a clean rag to wash him.

“Join me,” Simon murmured, tugging on my arm. “Please.”

“How can I refuse when you ask me so sweetly?” I kicked off my boots and took off my pants before stepping into the tub and sinking down behind him. My cock sat rigid against the curve of his ass, but I curbed my desire.

Having him in my arms right then was all I needed.

“I think we’re both too filthy to take a bath,” Simon whispered, lying back against my chest. “The water will be all murky and gross soon. Like pond water.”