She was lifting an unconscious D awkwardly onto her shoulder when Rachel returned. "Bring a deep bowl of cold water and as many cloths or towels as you can." She didn't bother to see if the woman followed her instructions, she was too intent on getting D up the stair and into his room.
By the time Rachel came upstairs she already had D laid out on his bed. The large bowl wasplaced on the side table and the towels on the floor. Watching the stiff and measured movements of the dhampir girl made her nervous, like something was going that she was unwelcome in seeing. Backing out Rachel inquired if she would be needed. A curt shake of the head was all the dismissal she needed before she shut the door hurriedly.
Wren relaxed slightly as the woman left, being in this condition was not safe, and if the woman had stayed she would have found out just how bad D was. Removing his hat she placed it on the floor at the foot of his bed. Moving back to his head she watched as D opened his eyes, wariness evident in his expression. "You're ridiculously overheated, D. Lie still."
Struggling to sit up he ground out an, "I'm fine", before being pushed firmly back into the mattress. She could feel frustration and exhaustion coming off him in waves. It made her bones ache to feel his soul consuming weariness. It made her wonder just how long he had been what he was, a hunter constantly destroying vampires and himself.
They had been wrapped in silence for a moment, both reading different thing in the other.
"You need to cool down, D. You know it, too."
Shifting her hand from his shoulder to the clasp on his cape, she gave him a small teasing smile. "Now, how do you get all this stuff off? It will help you cool faster. You really are burning up, I'm surprised you're still conscious."
D lifted his hand and undid the cape and, with Wrens help, eased it out from under him. Together they managed to get the body armor off. And with her help D was soon free of all armor, sword and boots. With small hands pressing on his shoulders again he lay back, dangerously close to passing out.
Laying wet cold cloth over his forehead she watched has D succumbed to oblivion.
Wren looked down on him and sighed. Left in only a black cotton shirt and fitted black pants he looked different. Not softer, really, but not as unapproachable. Wren slid her fingers slightly across the thick hair lying on the pillow. Smiling that except for the color of shirts and his absence of shoes, they were dressed alike now.
She could still feel that bone deep weariness in him, the quiet painful longing for….something. She didn't know what, sometimes she wished she was psychic.
Wren sighed again and removed the cloth from his face placing it back in the bowl with some of the other soaking hand towels. She unwrapped his forearms, freeing his sleeves. Reaching down she untucked his shirt, pulling it over his head and completely off, tossing it on top of the pile at the foot of the bed. She started covering his chest and wrapping his arms in the cold cloths, replacing the one across his face as well. Rising from her seat on the bed she draped one of the lager hand towel on the back of her neck and across her shoulders.
Finding a comfortable spot on the window sill, she ended up mimicking D's position from earlier.
Letting her gaze settle on the resting dhampir she couldn't help shaking her head.
Amazing, he is simply amazing. I never thought I would ever meet the most famous D.
Smirking in a self-deprecating manner she let he eyes wander over his prone form, the damp cloths seeming to mold to the muscular chest and firm stomach flawlessly. She rubbed the pads of her fingers together remembering the feel of his skin; silk sliding over steel, velvety soft and remarkably enticing. Wren shook her head again, getting up to change the cloths for cooler ones.
When D opened his eyes he saw nothing but blurred white. Lifting his hand and pulling off the cloth he felt something shift on his chest. Looking down he saw himself to be bare to the waist and white towels spread out across his chest. His forearms had been unbound from their protective wraps and in their place were more towels, there was also one rolled up behind his neck. Doing a mental check of his body he could tell that his equilibrium was steady again.
He looked over to the open window and saw the girl.
Wren, her name is Wren, and she was the one who did this, who helped me like this.
She was slumped in the window seat, feet braced against the sill, a towel draped around her shoulders and neck, hair loose. A dry breeze blew through and ruffled the girls hair, the three quarter moon was visible from the bed and cast a silver hue to everything in the room.
Again the thought of moonlight and fairy dust floated through the back off his mind. With moonlight falling on Wren's pale skin and hair she seemed to glow, the light wind playing with her hair gave the impression that she was floating. Sitting there, seemingly completely at peace, he could honestly say she was beautiful.
More so than anything or anyone else not just because of looks, but because of her mix of strength and kindness.
Wren was a rare find indeed, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to make her his, to have her stay by his side for eternity.
The force of this wanting scared him, D, the son of the Vampire King. It scared him because he knew he could do it.
AN: Hello my dears, I wanted to say that for those of you who have posted reviews before they were accidently deleted by my cat, and I would love to hear from you once more.