Kiva had run out of words. She was surprised by just how much she had revealed to Jaren, how she’d bared her wounds to him, quite literally. She still couldn’t look at him, afraid of what she might see on his face, unsure whether it would be pity or understanding or disgust . . . or a combination of all three.

But then he was moving, standing from his seat beside her bed, and she couldn’t keep her gaze from flicking to him as he leaned toward her, closer and closer, until his lips brushed her forehead in a whisper-soft kiss.

“Thank you for trusting me, Kiva,” he told her quietly as he pulled away enough to look into her eyes. “Thank you for sharing.”

His face didn’t show pity, understanding, or disgust, his expression unlike anything Kiva had ever seen from him before. Warmth pooled in her core and a host of butterflies took flight in her stomach as they stared at one another, barely a breath apart.

Kiva didn’t know what to say, wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to respond, feared she’d utter the wrong thing.

But she didn’t need to speak at all, because Jaren broke their contact to reach for the blanket, pulling it back over her, tucking it in at the sides until she was wrapped up like a cocoon. He then took her hand and threaded his fingers with hers before laying them on her blanketed leg, right over her scars, as he said, “You need to rest.” He squeezed her hand and promised, “I’ll keep an eye on Tilda and the quarantined patients until Tipp gets here. You just let the medicine work and sleep off everything that happened today. All right?”

His tender actions and generosity caused Kiva’s still-sore throat to tighten, keeping her from replying verbally. But she nodded, and summoned the boldness to squeeze his fingers in return.

Jaren smiled at her, his entire face filling with open affection, and that was the image she held on to as she closed her eyes and finally allowed her body to relax after the trauma of her day. She feared the Ordeal would replay across her mind, keeping her awake, reminding her of the fiery tempest that she’d barely survived, but no—Jaren’s smile didn’t leave her. Nor did Jaren himself, since she was aware of him moving quietly around the infirmary, checking on Tilda and then entering the quarantine room, just as he’d promised.

Unable to keep in her own smile, Kiva snuggled deeper into her cocoon.

Seconds later, she was asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Three