Mara’s POV
The first time I helped the mage change Damon’s bandages, I was so anxious that my shaking hands almost dropped the vial.
“Easy there,” the mage murmured without looking up, his long fingers sketching symbols into the darkened wound on Damon’s body. “If you spill the contents of that vial, it’ll not only burn through the bed, it’ll take weeks to brew another one. He’d be on his way to the moon goddess.”
That had been about three nights ago.
Now my hands were steadier, I knew it was either I was careful and confident or Damon got the consequences.
I uncorked the vial, and tipped out exactly three drops of the weirdly smelling brew, and then I pressed them gently along the black veins running up Damon’s forearm. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even twitch in pain. He just watch
