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shirt and blindly handed it to her, remaining turned away.
    “You healed me?”
    Thankfully she hadn’t seen the cost. He faced her again, and the sight of his shirt draped over her small body tightened his stomach. “Yes.”
    She brushed her fingers across her cheek where he’d touched her moments before, a puzzled expression on her face. Could she feel the echo of his touch? Then her eyes went to his wings, and her voice softened to a reverent hush. “I’ve never seen a Caido’s wings before. They’re luminescent, like smoky silver. You have a glow all around you.”
    She wanted to touch his wings. He could see it in her eyes, the way they caressed the width of them. The thought shivered through him, not painful but…tempting.
    Her wonderment fled. “You’ve been hurt, too. Can you heal yourself?”
    Archer looked at the cut on his side. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, only crusted with dried blood. “It will heal on its own.”
    Lyra took the cloth from the bowl and wrung out the water. As she stretched to reach him, the sheet fell away. The shirt covered her hips and ass but left her long, creamy legs bare. She hissed in pain at the same second he saw the red, angry line on the back of her thigh.
    She twisted around to see it. “Bastard ripped out one of my scales. And tried to slice my throat with it!”
    “Calm down.” Now her anger pulsed. “I’ll heal it.” He sat on the edge of the bed and waved his hand over it.
    “You put me to sleep, didn’t you?” She winced but never took her gaze from him. Which made him work harder to keep his expression neutral as he took her pain.
    “Consider it a sedative.”
    The line disappeared from her skin, burning on his thigh for a few seconds before fading.
    She was watching him. “You take on the pain.”
    He lifted a shoulder. “It’s just a sting.”
    “Thank you.”
    “It’s nothing. Really.”
    She started to reach toward the cut with the washcloth but paused. “You don’t like it when people touch you.”
    He shook his head. “No, we don’t.”
    She bent her legs to the side, a demure position, yet still provocative. “Let me get this straight. Your energy draws women to you, but you don’t like anyone to touch you.”
    He had to be careful what he revealed. Knowledge was dangerous to Caidos. “Ironic, isn’t it? We don’t want that attraction. In fact, we despise it.”
    “That’s why you stay in these ivory towers and never mingle with anyone.”
    “Correct.” Sitting on a bed with a half-naked Dragon made that even more important.
    “But you’ve touched me.” Her hand went to her neck, to exactly where he’d touched her at the bar. His touch had left an impression on her. “So how is it fair that you can touch me, but I can’t touch you?”
    “Who said life was fair? Look, I won’t touch you either. That should even things out.”
    He didn’t like her expression that indicated she was trying to figure him out. She was smart, this one. Her desire pulsed at him in waves, physically pulling at him before he pushed back.
    She cat-walked across the bed toward him, stopping inches from where he stood. “It’s okay. You can touch me.” Her voice was husky.
    “No, I can’t.” His fingers curled, fighting the need to do as she said.
    “But you want to. You know how I can tell? Your eyes are shimmering the same way they did back at the bar.” She took his hand and placed it against her neck. “When you did this.” Then drew it down to rest against her collarbone.
    He couldn’t breathe. Even muffled by being in full wing, desire rushed through him as it had at the bar. He’d nearly lost it then, until the pain grew too harsh. He pulled his hand back. “Don’t. I have no interest in getting involved with you. Or anyone.” He took the washcloth, still in her other hand. “I have to figure out who sent wraiths after us. We picked them up at the nightclub, which means someone’s watching us, probably has been since we left