Weysh spread the balm, doing his best not to think about the soft, curvy roundness of her.

“And one more, on my side. I’ll show you.”

Weysh scooped up more balm and Yenni took his hand, guiding it up under the shirt to a spot against her curving waistline.

Byen, I can’t take this.

He hastily slapped it on, pulled his hand free, and shot to his feet.

“There. All done.”

But Yenni held his gaze, and rose to kneel on the bed. He was helpless as she slid her arms around his neck and pressed her soft lips to his.

Weysh groaned in surrender and responded with deep, devouring kisses. He swept Yenni’s legs out from under her and placed her gently on the bed, never breaking the kiss. Her small hands slipped under his hair and played over his bare back and shoulders. He reached up and pulled down the neck of her nightshirt, and released her mouth only to finally plant that line of kisses along her delicate collarbone.

“Weh-sheh,” she sighed, and he knew it was innocent: she didn’t know how dangerous it was to breathe his name like that, how it was fuel to an already raging fire, but he simply couldn’t stop himself.

He growled against her neck and shoved his hands under the nightshirt, running them down the smooth skin of her back, over her round behind, and back up along her waist. Yenni jerked and cried out.

In pain.

Weysh froze, his smoldering ardor doused by icy horror. He scrambled up and away from her, and her wincing expression was like a lance through his heart.

“I am so, so sorry, my love,” he whispered.

“I’m all right,” she said breathlessly, but he still felt like the world’s tiniest rat prick.

She patted the bed. “Come lie beside me.”

He had passengers to ferry in less than an hour, but he did as she asked, and she snuggled under his arm. He held her gently, terrified of hurting her further, and placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

“Your appointment was today, was it not? I didn’t hear from you—how did it go?”

Ah Watcher, why did she have to remind him? He couldn’t begrudge her concern, but for a brief few moments he’d mercifully forgotten that he would never smell properly again.

“The healer prescribed a sniffing potion, but she said not to expect too much. My sense of smell will never be what it was, if it even returns at all.”

She turned in his arms, and she looked as heartsick as he felt. “You do not deserve this,” she said as she gently stroked his cheek. Weysh leaned into her soft caress. It had taken so long to get here, but she was finally his. He would do anything, anything to protect her. Including . . .

“Perhaps you should go back to the Moonrise Isles.”