Unwelcome pull

**Sorry I didn't mention this earlier: Azel is pronounced Ah-zel**

Azel thought it would be easy.

There was nothing to it, he just had to take off the outer layer of her soaked garments. After all, he only saw her as a girl.

Or he tried to see her as that, at least.

But he quickly learned the hard way that things were easier said than done, especially in situations like this.

Azel tried to sit her up on the wall bur her head lolled sideways in the process. He quickly put his palm under her cheek to support it.

…Her skin was soft, so soft and its usually radiant color was now coming back. Her head followed the rest of her body as he rested it on the wall too.

He stayed with his palm against her cheek for a while longer, just enjoying the feel of it, admiring her as he did so.

Her damp hair that stuck in strands to her pretty, radiant face, her unbelievably long, full lashes and her lips… her small, rose-petaled lips.

His thumb arched towards it before he could even think, he stroked it once and it was like a bolt of lightning surged from his fingertip all the way down his spine; a slight tremor ran through him.

A second later and realization of what he was doing dawned on him, and he jerked his hand away like he had been struck, his eyes slightly wide.

What in hell was he doing?!

Azel managed to regain himself and sighed before he reached for the tied laces of her dress in front of her, hoping against hope that she wouldn't wake up at any second.

If she woke up and caught him doing this, it didn't matter if his intentions were good, she would still misunderstand… anybody would. But he couldn't dismiss the possibility of her assumption being beyond imagination.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be anything wilder than him trying to take advantage of her—if there was anything worse than that.

Azel swallowed a laugh.

He tugged at one of her laces and it opened, his gaze fixated on her pendant, lingering for a moment before he wandered away.

Slowly, he loosened the laces all the way down to the top of her breasts, then he swallowed. Hard.

Her white chemise turned out to be transparent—he hadn't expected that. How on earth was he supposed to do this? He didn't possess that much self control, his eyes would undoubtedly wander!

He sighed again, maybe it was wiser to wait on Fabian's return with a healer. The majority of them were female, so it should be fine. They would take care of her.

There was no need for him to subject himself to needless torture.

Reluctantly, he tied her up her laces and laid her back down. Then he stood from his perch and went over to the Knight lying on the adjacent bed, placing his fingers on the man's pulse point.

It was present, but weak—another hour in his state seemed unlikely.

The wound on the Knight's back was deep, running from just below his shoulder blades to the center of his back, the skin around it was a sickly faded green hue.

Azel considered that it could have been worse; he supposed the Knight was lucky that the rain had washed away most of the poison.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have survived this long. Still, the wound was going to take a rather long time to heal.

'Where the hell are you, Fabian?' he sent, he didn't intend for his frustration to slip into the message, but it did.

Well, considering the circumstances, it couldn't be helped.

'I'm on my way back, Milord,' his aide's response came quick.

'You're taking too much time.'

Fabian nearly clicked his tongue in irritation but stopped himself. 'Please understand that nothing will be easy in this downpour,' he explained. 'Just be patient for a while longer.'

The connection dissipated and Azel clenched his jaw as he studied the injured Knight.

He couldn't allow him to die, not out of concern for him, but because she would be devastated and it would almost be unbearable.

Azel's thoughts stopped abruptly, then he chuckled darkly to himself.

"The longer she stays, the stronger the mate pull will get. I better hasten this and send her on her way as fast as possible," he muttered, his gaze shifting to his bed with a pained expression.

A few minutes passed, then he was up and pacing restlessly around the room.

The door to the inn room creaked open, causing Azel to halt as Fabian entered with a flat expression, he was completely drenched.

Behind him stood a middle-aged woman, soaked and holding a sizable leather pouch.

"I'm back," Fabian stated matter-of-factly.

"What took you so long?" Azel blurted out before he could stop himself, but he quickly dismissed the question. "It doesn't matter. Attend to him," he said to the healer, pointing at the Knight on Fabian's bed, "as quickly as you can."

The woman nodded quickly and tried to approach, but she paused briefly to cast a weary glance in Azel's direction.

"What is it?" he asked cautiously.

"What about you, sir?" the woman inquired sharply, her brows furrowing in concern. "You are... you are also wounded."

It took a moment for realization to dawn on him, and he glanced down at his left arm—ah, he was still injured.

The poison was likely tampering with the healing process but that didn't matter. He was recovering, but it was slow. The person in dire need of the healer's attention was the Knight.

"I'll manage; it's not serious," he reassured her. "I can handle the basic cleaning myself. Attend to him, he needs it quickly."

"Yes." The woman responded and hurriedly moved to kneel beside the bed, shoving her hands into the large leather pouch on the floor.

Within seconds, she began her work–quickly, but gentle–tending to the Knight's wound.

Fabian stood still as Azel moved to lean against the wall, arms folded, a few paces away from his aide and closer to the door.

Under their watchful gaze, the healer seemed to grow a bit nervous. A few minutes later, her hands began to tremble slightly, though it didn't seem to affect her efficiency, so Azel couldn't care less.

Some moments passed in silence before Fabian cast a sidelong glance at his master, to find him looking down at his wound in a daze.

'You are restraining your healing on purpose,' Fabian communicated suddenly.

Azel lifted his head slowly to look up at him. 'So you can tell...' It wasn't a question, more of a confirmation. 'I suppose I am, but the poison is playing a part… no matter how little.'

'Why? You could have healed yourself before the healer arrived. Why did you let it persist?'

Azel shifted against the wall, closing his eyes. 'The girl has seen me wounded,' he relented. 'If she were to wake up and discover the wound completely gone, it would be a problem.'

'I see...' Fabian mused. 'Still, you can't maintain this for too long. Your healing is natural; attempting to stop it will undoubtedly take its toll on you.'

'I'm well aware, Fabian,' Azel sighed inwardly. 'Must you make a fuss about everything?'

'I am not making a fuss, Milord—' Fabian began, but his words were quickly cut off.

"I've finished," the healer announced, rising to her feet and wiping her sweaty brow.

"How is he?" Azel inquired.

"...His condition is not... favorable," she responded honestly. "It will take some time before he regains consciousness, but for now, he is out of danger."

"Good," he exhaled, then gestured with his chin toward where Adelia lay. "I want you to thoroughly check her for any injuries and help her change out of those wet clothes."

The healer glanced toward the bed and pursed her lips. "Very well," she agreed. "But... but I will need another dress for her."

Azel inhaled sharply, he hadn't thought of that—in fact, he hadn't been thinking of anything properly lately. What was happening to him?

To think he had tried to remove her wet clothes without having anything else to dress her in...

He suppressed a frustrated sigh and muttered, "I'll… I'll find a suitable attire. For now, do as I ask."

The woman nodded, advancing toward Adelia's bedside. Her hand hovered over the laces of the soaked garments, but before she could start the process of loosening them, she turned back to Azel and gave him an uncertain look.

He recognized that look; it was her polite way of saying that he should leave. He hesitated.

"Milord?" Fabian's voice broke through his thoughts, prompting Azel to glance around, to find his aide holding the room's door ajar – he had already moved outside.

When had he done that?

Shaking off his confusion, Azel tore his gaze from Fabian and allowed it to linger on Adelia for a short moment before finally leaving the room.