Moving to the large tub, I began running the faucet: cold tap only. I ran my hand under the flowing water and flinched at the icy coldness. I did not know how he could stand it. I did not know how sitting in this temperature would feel good. But then my heart dropped when I knew that was the very reason.
It would inflict pain. He would suffer more pain. My eyes squeezed shut at the thought of him sitting here nightly, forcing his body to sustain such a frigid temperature, to calm the flames he believed so desperately tormented him.
Out of nowhere, a fierce anger surged through me. I was angry at the man who made Flame think this way. And I was angry at how no one had ever told him he was not evil. That he was so much more.
Leaving the tub to fill, I made my way back to the main room. Flame had turned over, his front now facing the direction of the bathroom. My heart swelled when those black eyes landed on me and he exhaled in relief.
“It is filling up.” I pointed to the kitchen and said, “I am going to make us some food. You have to eat to restore your strength.”
Flame's blank expression gave nothing of his feelings away, then he said, “I am so tired. My body feels weak. I fucking hate feeling like this.”
“I know. But we will get you better. We will make you strong again.”
“We?” he questioned.
I edged in the kitchen, but looked back to say. “Yes. We. I am here to care for you. I am here to help you feel better.” I watched him watch me and asked, “Do you understand?”
Flame nodded, his bearded cheek rubbing against the hardwood, and he said, “You’re to stay here with me. Until I’m well.” I smiled as I made to prepare food, when he added, “My Maddie.” My heart soared at the reverence in his rough voice, and hot tears stung my eyes.
He was calling me his. Claiming my heart as I had already claimed his.
The silence was heavy as it clung in the air, and without turning back, I whispered, “My Flame.”
I caught his sharp inhale of breath. But I kept my eyes fixed forward. I did not have the courage to face him. I feared I would break if I did.
I quickly busied myself with chopping the vegetables I had not reached yesterday and brought the water in the pan to a boil.
Cooking helped me keep my head clear. It helped me focus.
As the vegetables began to boil, I walked into the bathroom and stopped the faucet. Dipping my hand in the tub, I automatically wrenched it straight back out. It was freezing.
Suddenly, a sound from behind me made me flinch. I reared back to see Flame gripping the doorframe. His huge body was staggering forward, his teeth gritting together as he forced his weakened legs to walk, one slow step at a time.
And he was naked. Naked but for the dried blood coating his body.
I focused on his eyes, but when he stumbled forward, his legs giving out, I reached out to catch him. Flame’s eyes widened as I rushed forward.
“NO!” he shouted harshly, the force of his bellow freezing me mid-movement.
Flame panted with exertion, until he reached the bath and his hands gripped the edge. I moved to run past when he said brokenly, “I can’t… I can’t be touched. I can’t stand it, Maddie.”
My heart broke. “I know,” I replied, and promptly left the room.
Entering the small kitchen I pressed both hands on the countertop and took a deep breath. My hands trembled at the shock of Flame’s resistance to my touch. Then I shook my head in disbelief. I was going to touch him. And it had not repulsed me. He had need of my help, and my body had reacted accordingly.
Taking in a deep breath, I moved back from the counter. I heard a pained groan coming from the bathroom. Heart still trembling, I stepped backwards and looked inside. Flame was inside the tub. His body was arched and he was shaking profusely. But he was bathing. He was forcing himself to endure the pain.
I could not watch.
Checking the soup was fine, I let my gaze wander around the small cabin, my eyes landing on the large open fire at the end of the room. There were logs and a flint at the side, and a box of matches on the mantle.
The room was cold, the winter’s day chilling the air. But more than that, Flame’s body was already suffering with fatigue, persevering with the ice cold bath would only make things worse.
In minutes the fire was lit, flames beginning to climb. The sound of the firewood crackling, and the smell of soup boiling on the stove, immediately made me feel calm. Then I glanced behind me to the hatch in the floor. The one stained with Flame’s dried blood and seed. I wondered why he had to sleep there? Why it was so important to him?
The sound of sloshing water pulled me from my thoughts. Flame would be coming out soon. My cheeks heated when I thought of his naked body. And that if I was correct, he would reject the towel I had left out for him.