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Summary
“I mean no harm,” he said, as if he was taming a wild beast, which from his point of view she might very well appear to be, being all grubby and dishevelled as she was.
His eyes never left hers.
Meena said nothing, staying firm in her position. She couldn’t just take his word, he was a stranger after all, for all she knew his word could mean nothing. Instead, she simply regarded him with narrowed eyes, letting them rove about his person, taking all of him in.
He did the same, his golden eyes roamed over her, as if he was assessing her.
His brows furrowed as his gaze landed on her midriff. “You’re wounded,” he took an involuntary step forward.
Meena hissed again, stopping him from moving further.
His eyes flickered back to hers, keeping his hands raised and in front of him, he pointed towards her side, “That looks quite serious. You will need a healer. I can take you to one, in my clan.”
Meena’s ears perked as he spoke. His voice was low and smooth, with a strange calming effect that was somewhat hypnotic, and as much as Meena hated to admit it, she rather liked it.
“Please,” he spoke quietly, placing a hand on his chest. “Let me help you.”