Zelia
I take the cloth and thoroughly soak it in the chamomile water. I wring out the access water and turn to Jehan.
“Remember, no theatrics,” I warn once more before I start rubbing off the dry blood. Jehan winches a couple of times when I touch the open wounds, but he does not move or say anything.
The entire time I am aware of him studying me while I clean his wounds. I do not like it one bit. What was supposed to be an easy task, turns out to be torture for me. With every second passing, I become more aware of him and my body is responding to it.
The butterflies are back in my stomach, and I must concentrate to keep breathing normally. I am relieved when the task is finally completed, and I step away from him in relief.
“What now?” He asks as I pick up the chains again. “I did wh
