Riven, who had been stretching his fingers, blinked in surprise. He glanced down at Soren's hands working over his skin, then back up at the man's face. He had a gentler smile on his face, it was not teasing.
"You won't let a healer do it?" Riven asked, his voice holding a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Soren didn't answer immediately. His fingers glided over the marks with slow, deliberate movements, making sure to cover every irritated spot with the cool salve.
Riven felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest. Compared to the treatment he had received in the past, this was already leagues better. He'd expected to be tossed aside the moment Soren got bored. But now, seeing him like this—seeing this odd contradiction of care and possessiveness—Riven couldn't help but smile.
Soren caught that smile. His fingers froze.
His eyes darkened.
That cheeky grin. That foolish expression of amusement.
