A Hard Time

"Why? Does it disgust you to touch your husband? Even though he sacrificed his arm for you." Davien gave her a puppy-dog look, and Bel felt her words dry up in her throat.

"I—I didn't ask you to do that," she stammered.

"I'm not so disdainful that I would sit back and let a woman be attacked, let alone my wife," he replied, his gaze intense.

She pouted and looked away. "I asked to take a look at it, but you refused. If it bothered you, I could have healed it. Don't act as though I don't care about your health."

"I never said you didn't," he replied. Bel didn't like how close he sounded, but she wasn't about to turn around and find out. "You smell like fruit," he added.

"What?" She turned her head and found herself face-to-face with him. Davien's eyes darted down and back up before he leaned back.

"You smell like fruit," he repeated with a smirk.

"I heard you, and I could say the same," she shot back.