Free Pariah (The New Covenant Series) by Casey L. Bond Page B

to work to free my wrists and then my ankles, both with the same bloody results. Finally free of my bindings, I tried to appraise the damage to my wrists, but my hands shook so badly, and it was so dark, I couldn’t get a good look at the actual wounds.
    Wesley stood and helped Mi ss Annette to her feet. “Go get the healer, please. I’ll take her to her room and wait for you there,” he softly requested. She left immediately, shifting her broad hips around the men and out the door, moving as swiftly as her joints allowed. Wesley leaned in and whispered, “I’m going to carry you, okay?” I nodded in response. Suddenly, I felt numb. Had this all really happened?
    Wesley scooped me up, and my entire body shook against his chest. His arms carried me past my captor to my room, gingerly laying me on my bed, my head landing on my pillow . I’m ok. I’m alive. He didn’t hurt me. This revelation caused a new wave of emotion to roll through my quivering form, and tears filled my eyes and spilled onto my cheeks. Wesley was pacing the floor in front of my bed but stopped when I released a pent-up sob. He rushed over to me and sat on the bed’s edge. I sat up and locked my arms around his waist and wept until Miss Annette arrived with the healer.
    I let go of Wes, and he got ready to stand up, but I grabbed his arm and shot him a look, pleading for him to stay with me. His look indicated that he wouldn’t leave me, and I kept hold of his hand while the healer moved his hands over the corners of my mouth.
    The healer, Jarrius, had kin d indigo eyes, a wide nose, and dark skin. His hair was coarse and long, salt and pepper, and his long beard the same. He wore an emerald tunic tied with brown sash. Two small brown leather pouches were tied to it. Swirling patterns of tattoos spread up the dark skin of his arms. His pants were shorter than most men wore and were frayed at the hem, which grazed the bottom of his knee. Bare feet, also tattooed, were dirty on the soles.
    I was silent as he appraised my wrists and ankles with his wide calloused fingers that were surprisingly gentle to the touch. Miss Annette walked to the door and grabbed a bowl of water from delicate outstretched hands. They were Lillian’s.
    Miss Annette squeezed the door shut as Lil tried to get in. She grabbed some cloths and wet them, dabbing at my mouth to remove the blood. She repeated this process as gently as possible with both wrists and ankles. The pain made me wince a few times, but overall, I was numb. It further reminded me of what Altair was capable of, and I shuddered at the thought. I’d just been given a taste of his cruelty.
    When Annette had finis hed, the healer removed the two leather pouches from his sash and mixed the contents of one with water, making a thick grayish-green paste. He then gently rubbed the mixture on my wounds, uttering words from another language, barely audible. Wesley and Miss Annette watched intently as he worked. When finished, he handed Miss Annette the second pouch and instructed her to rub the mixture on my wounds for a week to prevent infection and promote healing. He admitted that he didn’t think I would scar, but he couldn’t be sure. “Depends on her skin,” he simply offered, shrugging his shoulders.
    Before he left, he smiled down at me and placed his large hand on my head, muttered something, and then removed it and smiled at me softly again. For whatever reason, his words, smile, and kind touch had healed a part of me that I hadn’t even realized had been injured tonight.
    Miss Annette said she w ould go dump out the water, now tinted pink with my blood, and would be back soon. She’s just giving Wes a chance to talk to me , I thought. When she closed the door behind her, I looked at Wes. He was pacing again, raking his hand through his slightly curled brown hair. I let him pace. He was thinking, and I didn’t have the energy to start the conversation that I felt would ensue. Exhaustion swept over