Benjera looked at his wide-eyed wife, who kept sneaking looks at him, and folded his arms. He caught her eyes tracking across his chest, down to where his drawers sat low on his hips, and something warm settled in his chest. Good. Let her look.

  "What?"

  "You have cuts. They're going to get infected and you're going to get sick if you stay in those clothes," he told her.

  "That's first aid?" Noa asked, looking at the box and supplies laid out on the counter.

  "This is disinfectant. Shirt off." Benjera opened the small bottle.

  “I can do it,” she snapped when he moved to touch her.

  He put the bottle down and gestured for her to take it before folding his arms. Benjera knew she couldn’t. He wasn’t going to fight with her.

  She looked at her hands and experimentally touched her fingers together. Her whole posture changed, stomach pulling in tight to her frame as she hissed in a breath. Pain rippled through her and it confirmed what he suspected. Mana burns that bad would cripple her for a few glow at least.

  Her lips parted and there was something bordering on anger in her eyes. Defiance burned there. "I can't."

  Benjera learned more in that moment about Noa than the rest of their encounter. She was the type to jump in a death trap to save a stranger, but she hated to be incapable. She was seething because she was unable to pull off her own shirt. He could have pointed out she was severely injured, out of her depth, that she had his help. He said nothing.

  [Endurance 12]

  The skill washed through him like a steadying hand, pulling his focus sharp with his breath. He ignored the skill, it was for physically demanding situations and it was too soon to bring that part of their arrangement up yet.

  "Arms up," he ordered instead.

  She swallowed her pride and raised her arms. He stepped close, catching the hem of her shirt and peeling it upward carefully to avoid catching on her mana burns. The fabric stuck in places where it had dried against her skin. Her scent hit him as he lifted the shirt over her head, sweat and flowers and something underneath that was just her.

  Noa wore a pink bra underneath curving around her body. Pretty. He wished it wasn't there, but it didn't interfere with reaching her cuts and scrapes. He pulled out the sanitizing cloth and cleaned the claw marks on her back first, working methodically. Her skin was warm under his hands. Soft in a way that made his palms ache to linger.

  She flinched when the cloth touched the deeper scrape on her upper arm.

  "Sorry," he muttered, gentling his touch.

  Benjera cleaned and wrapped her upper arm with clean bandaging, his fingers brushing the curve of her shoulder as he worked. He had her rinse her hands, but they still had something sticking to her skin. It was a type of sap that left a gummy residue that was good for some glues, but would need to be scrubbed off. Benjera reached back into the box and pulled out a strip of leather, offering up to her face.

  "For your hand," he said. "Bite down."

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  Noa understood immediately, and placed it between her teeth. Benjera had done this before, for himself and others. It didn't make watching her prepare for pain any easier. She met his eyes as she bit down, and he took her injured hand in his, cradling her palm upward.

  The sanitizing agent burned. He knew it did. She made a sound through the leather, low and pained, and her fingers tried to curl closed. He held her hand steady and worked quickly to clean the injury of the sap. Her breathing came sharp through her nose.

  She had a stubborn set to her jaw. Benjera let go of her hands, thoughts fuzzy. She made it hard to think straight. Especially as he took that piece of leather from her mouth, eyes lifting to meet his.

  [Endurance 12]

  Benjera had to shake off his thoughts.

  "Your knee," he said, pointing at the scrape visible through the torn fabric of her pants.

  Noa was a deep shade of red as she stood up, still catching her breath from the pain. Benjera reached for the buttons on the front of her pants without asking permission. It had to be done.

  "Those are decorative," she said, voice slightly breathless.

  He tested them. She was right. The pants stretched, the buttons were fake. Impractical. He looked up at her, holding her gaze as his fingers slid inside the waistband. Noa’s eyes widened slightly but she didn't pull away.

  He drew her pants down slowly, crouching as the fabric slid over her hips. His face angled close to her chest and he could feel the heat coming off her skin, could hear the slight catch in her breathing. The smell of her skin doing things to his body, making him dizzy. The pants caught on the scrape and he eased them past it carefully, fingers brushing the outside of her thigh.

  She sat down when he reached her ankles, offering her leg so he could remove the pants entirely. Her underwear matched her bra. Of course it did. She was that type.

  He grabbed the sanitizing cloth again and tended her last injury while kneeling, cleaning the scraped knee with the same careful attention he'd given everything else. Her leg was smooth under his palm where he braced it. The curve of her legs and waist drew his eye and he let himself look, let himself want.

  [Endurance 12]

  The skill pulsed again and his vision sharpened, breath evening out for a moment before the rasp returned.

  "What are you going to put on the burns?" she asked.

  "Nothing will make the pain go away, except mana regeneration. This time next half you won't have them anymore," Benjera said, finishing with her knee.

  "Next half? I don't know what that means." She echoed his words like a question. "How am I supposed to sleep like this?"

  "I'm sorry," Benjera said. His eyes traced the curves of her thighs in front of his face, the pale skin, the way she was sitting with her legs slightly parted. "I can only promise to distract you. For as long as you like."

  "You have a singular focus," she said dryly.

  His singular focus was winning the war because he struggled to look up at her face. He took a deep breath that felt heavy. The next trap snared him. Those green eyes looking down at him, amused and embarrassed.

  "You have the perfect body," Benjera said. The words came out helpless, honest in a way he hadn't intended.

  Noa scoffed dismissively. She didn't believe him. His brow furrowed, the scowl settling into his features automatically. How could he convince her?

  "How many women with a perfect body live in this city?" she asked warily.

  His scowl deepened, brow pinching together as his attention went back to cleaning her knee. "I'm looking at her."

  [Endurance 12]

  He waved the skill away, annoyed at the distraction when he needed to make her understand. Noa was his wife now. That meant something. Everything.

  "Benjera," she said, patronizing in a way that made his jaw tighten. "Just tell me. You don't have to hide other women from me."

  He stood up slowly, something burning through the fog in his head. What he wanted was right in front of him. "I don't know that word."

  Noa looked away for a second, uncomfortable. "Which one?"

  He reached out and caught her chin, turning her face back to his. Her breath stilled, holding it in anticipation and he felt it like a tremor through his whole body. "Other women."

  And he kissed his wife.

  For a short moment that seemed to drag into eternity, Noa didn't kiss him back. His heart hammered against his ribs. Then she leaned into him, her mouth soft and yielding. She tasted like sugared fruit and salt. He pressed his advantage. Her lips parted with a soft moan of pleasure that cut straight through him.

  [Endurance 12]

  He pulled away, chest heaving. Air wouldn't come right. His vision narrowed at the edges.

  "Benjera?" she asked, but her voice sounded watery, distant. "Benjera?"

  Darkness took him before he could answer.