They crashed through the brush, branches smacking their faces, moonlight slicing jagged lines over ripped clothes and skin smeared with blood. His hand had hers in a death grip—seriously, like, circulation?—but she could feel it quivering. That post-fight shake, you know? When the adrenaline bails and you realize you're actually in agony.
Somehow, they made it to a half-assed shelter under a slab of rock. Out of the wind, at least. He slumped against the wall like he might just melt right into the stone, chest working overtime, and—oh, awesome—a dark patch blooming on his side.
Her breath caught, sharp and ugly. "You're hurt."
He tried to brush it off. "Just a scratch," he said, and honestly, it would've been more convincing if he hadn't made that face. Yeah, right, a scratch.
"You're literally bleeding," she snapped, dropping down next to him. She pressed her fingers to the wound—warm, wet, gross—and he jerked. "That's not a scratch, genius."
For half a second, their eyes met, all moonlight and weird tension hanging between them. She saw his stubbornness, pure vintage, and her own panic mirrored right back. Then she yanked a strip off her cloak and jammed it against the cut.
He sucked in air through his teeth. "Careful, goddess."
She glared. "Try that nickname again and I swear I'll finish what the forest started. Seriously, you do not get to flirt right now."
Even bleeding out, he managed a crooked laugh. "Still bossy, huh? Was hoping that would change."
Her hands shook while she tied off the bandage—too tight, maybe, but who cares? Honestly, it wasn't fear making her hands do that. It was the way he looked at her, like she was more than just some battlefield medic. Like she was the reason he was still fighting.
"You scared me," she whispered. Didn't even mean to say it out loud, but there it was. "Back there, I thought you were gone."
He reached up, rough hand smudged with blood, thumb brushing her cheek. "Not tonight. Not ever, if I've got anything to say about it."
Her heart rattled against her ribs. Relief, terror, all tangled up. She dropped her gaze and yanked the knot tighter, focus, focus, don't let him see you fall apart.
"Shut up and rest," she muttered, voice all wobbly.
He leaned his head back, eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing worth seeing in this nightmare forest. "Just stay close. That's all I want."
She settled in next to him, their shoulders pressed together. Out there, shadows crawled and the wind whispered trouble. But for now? Just the two of them, breathing, bruised, alive.
Closer than they'd ever dared admit.