At the time it had been enough. To face the vargulf that had been hunting women. To protect Letha, and Roman. His family. To save his own skin. All those reasons and more had been enough to make him take that step. He had known the price would be steep; Destiny had warned him so many times, it was drummed into his head.
There wasn't even a shred of doubt in his mind - but that didn't make the price any less great, or make it hurt any less. His eyes flicked up to hers, defiant in the face of her unspoken chastisement. His gaze dropped just as quickly, dark lashes fanning against bruised-looking skin as he closed his eyes, her fingers skating his temple as she brushed hair behind his ear.
Touch wasn't unknown to him; and upir or not she smelt like home, like Destiny's blankets, his mom's jacket. He couldn't do anything about the pain right now - nor could he do anything about the fact that it was getting worse with every turn. All he could do was heal, and to do that he'd need sleep. He dropped his head with a sigh, turning to rest his temple against the pale underside of her arm, the curve of his nose brushing the dark lines of her tattoo.