Silva chuckled then winced when it pulled at the cut on his stomach.
“Shit.” Wylder came forward, getting into Silva’s space and reaching for his shirt. He lifted it enough to reveal the angry, bleeding line. “That’s going to need stitches.”
“No, it won’t.”
“Silva—”
He placed his hands over Wylder’s to stop his fussing. “It’s already healing. I just need to eat and rest.”
Wylder stared at him for a moment. “Okay. Then sit and take off your shirt. I’ll get you some food and find something to clean that with.”
A strange sort of tingling warmth spread in Silva’s chest. He was used to being alone. Had been for a very long time. If anyone else tried to order him about that way, it would grate on his nerves, and he sure as hell wouldn’t comply. But this was Wylder. Which apparently made all the difference.
The apartment wasn’t large. It was one main room with a small kitchen nook to one side and a bathroom. He walked over to the couch and started pulling off the cushions. It folded out into a bed. The only one in the place. Other than a small two-seater table and a desk, the couch was the only large piece of furniture.
“I’m beginning to think you have a problem with the concept of rest.”
Silva smiled but didn’t stop setting up the couch bed. “I’ll need a place to lie down, won’t I? And since we both can’t fit on the couch as is, we’ll need the bed.”
Wylder stopped rummaging in the kitchen cabinet to look at him. Silva swore he saw Wylder’s eyes darken before they narrowed.
“Okay. True. But you could sit your ass down at the table, let me find us something to eat, and thenIcould set up the bed.”
Silva had to turn his face away to hide his smile. He never imagined he’d enjoy being fussed over, but here he was, completely endeared by his mate getting a little huffy. “Of course. How silly of me.” He walked away from the now cushion-less couch and sat at the little table. “Honestly, I could just jump in the shower to wash the blood off and be good to go.”
Wylder pulled a couple of foil packets out of one of the cabinets and flicked on the light over the sink before inspecting them. “Where’s the date on these?”
“They use a Julian date code. Let me see. They should still be good.”
Wylder brought them over. Silva found the number stamped on the packages. “Oh yeah, these are still good. Grab a couple spoons, would you? Looks like we’re eating beef stew.”
Wylder
The food wasn’t as bad as Wylder had been expecting, and he was relieved when Silva actually took his shirt off and let Wylder tend to his wound. Silva had been right, of course. It was already almost healed.
“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” Wylder said, running a warm washcloth over the pale skin of Silva’s lower abdomen. Silva was sitting on the small bit of counter next to the kitchen sink. Wylder kept his movements as clinical as possible, but he could feel the heat in his cheeks rising every time his gaze strayed to the defined cut of Silva’s shoulders and chest. He was lean and so, so beautiful.
“What’s that?” Silva’s voice was lower than usual. Quieter, too. Maybe Wylder wasn’t the only one having trouble concentrating.
“Healing so fast. If they’d cut me like this, you’d be stitching me up right now.”
“I know.” Silva lifted his hand and traced a finger over Wylder’s cheekbone. “That’s why I said to stay behind me.”
With a wry smile, Wylder set the washcloth aside and stepped closer. Silva parted his knees, inviting Wylder to step between them. “I could barely see them, let alone fight them. I’ve been in my share of scrapes over the years, but that…”
“They wanted to take me alive.” Silva gestured to his stomach. “This would’ve been worse if they hadn’t. I know you want to help protect the door, but I’m glad you stayed back. I dated a human once who thought they could fight anything.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”
Silva tilted his head. “I hope your standards for a date are a little higher than a fight in the street and an MRE for dinner.”
Wylder laughed, leaning close enough he could feel Silva’s breath on his face. “I don’t know. It’s definitely been a unique experience.”
Silva hummed, sliding his arms over Wylder’s shoulders and closing the distance between them. The first brush of their lips was hesitant, warm, and powerful enough to pull a low groan from Wylder’s chest.
At the sound, Silva descended on him. He drew Wylder in with arms and legs, devouring his mouth until his entire world was slick wet heat and Silva’s body under his hands.
“Wylder.” Silva pulled back enough to speak.