She didn’t answer, but her hands were buried in his hair, wrapping the unruly waves around her fingers. Letting the strands slide through and then fisting them all over again. He felt her fighting for breath, felt her body rippling around his, drenching him in honeysuckle and citrus. He lifted his head, fighting for air, careful of her injuries, holding her close to him, his gaze moving over her face to assure himself he hadn’t hurt her.

“Siena?” he said softly. Insistently.

Her gaze jumped to his, eyes shimmering with tears. “You weren’t fucking me.” She sounded shocked. She looked shocked.

“No, mi vida, I was not,” he admitted, because she looked so vulnerable, so confused, he needed to reassure her. It was as necessary to him as breathing.

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t understand you, Elijah.”

“I know, mi amorcito,” he said. He kissed her chin and then couldn’t resist nibbling. “But you will. Give yourself time and you’ll understand me perfectly.” He eased his body out of hers. “Can you sleep now? I’ll get a washcloth and clean you up, but I need to know you can go back to sleep and not have nightmares.”

She smiled at him, lifted a hand to the mass of hair spilling around her and then touched his mouth, tracing his lips. He liked that. He liked that she liked his mouth, and she did. That was clear.

“I think you chased my nightmares away, Elijah.”

He flashed a satisfied grin at her, kissed her finger and exited the bed to get a warm washcloth.

Siena watched Elijah walk away from her, completely comfortable with his nudity. She was already pulling the edges of her shirt together and buttoning them. He came back, his eyes glittering at her in the dark as he sank down onto the bed beside her and carefully washed her thighs, pressing the warm cloth between her legs.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I think I’m definitely healing. The laceration on my leg is the worst, although I’m mostly self-conscious of the one on my face.”

“Which is silly,” he said, his attention on what he was doing.

She knew that. It was vain, but still. She bit her lip. “Um. Elijah, I’m starving. I didn’t eat, remember?”

His gaze jumped back to her face. “You wouldn’t let me get you food when Jake and Emma were here.”

“I didn’t want to eat in front of them,” she admitted.

He sighed and shook his head. “Were you hungry when they left?”

His tone demanded honesty. She didn’t want to try to lie, figuring he would know instantly she wasn’t telling the truth, so she shrugged. He scowled.