Page 69 of Marked

“I could feel it with the tongs. Just couldn’t get the right angle to yank it out.”

She heaved a sigh and brought the metal to the gash. Her hand shook as she pushed the device through the folds of his skin. His muscles bunched against her palm.

“Don’t be delicate,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Just get it out.”

Nausea piled inside her esophagus, but she dove deeper. He let out a sharp hiss. Metal connected with metal. The bullet.

Adjusting her hand so she had a good hold, she opened the tongs a bit further, sank in a few more millimeters, and cinched the handles together. The tongs didn’t close all the way, telling her she had a hold on something. Slowly she eased the tongs out, and a black shell erupted from his flesh.

She held it out in front of him.

Cole let out a pent-up breath and lowered his arm. “Shit, that was in there good. Thanks.”

She dropped the tongs and bullet on the counter and seized his arm again. A rivulet of blood oozed from the wound, flowing quickly. “We’ll need to stitch that.”

She reached toward the counter at his side, where the first aid kit sat open. The movement brought her back into Cole’s orbit. Heat radiated off his skin in waves and her fingers twitched with the need to trace his tattoos.

Why did he have to be so frickin attractive?

“Looking for this?” He pulled out the needle and thread that had been right in front of her face.

The walls of her throat threatened to close. She was being ridiculous. Turned on by a hot, half-naked guy. What was she, seventeen?

She grabbed a small white tube and unscrewed it. “Numbing cream.”

He shrugged and lifted his arm again. “Go for it.”

She quickly wet a cloth and mopped up the stream of blood. Her heart skittered in her chest at the sight of all that fluid leaving his body. How much blood loss was too much? How much had he bled until now? It’d been a good two hours since they left the woods.

With his skin clean aside from the red liquid still pumping out, she applied disinfectant around the wound and then the numbing cream.

“I hope you’re good at sewing.” His lazy tone calmed her frayed nerves.

His joking around was a good sign. He probably wasn’t going to pass out. She shrugged. “I’ve sewn Honey Funny more than once.”

He dropped his head an inch to the side. “Shit. I thought Bella did that.”

A laugh rolled off her tongue. “Nope. Sorry.”

“All right, fine. A jagged mess will look badass anyway.”

She chortled. “I don’t think you could look more badass if you tried.”

His finely shaped eyebrows crept up an inch, and the corner of his mouth tucked in, doing all kinds of things to her insides.

She lowered her gaze to the injury. Focus, Sophia. Poking near the wound with the needle, she brought her attention up to his face. “Can you feel that?”

He shook his head. “Not much. Go ahead.”

Swallowing, she plunged the needle through one side of the wound and passed it to the other. His arm stayed raised, allowing her to press intimately to his side. The scent of his cologne, or deodorant, wafted to her nostrils. Deep and heady like the pine from the mountains, but also mixed with spice and rum and sweat.

She swept the needle through again, then again. Some of her tension ebbed away at the sight of the lazy stance of his body, clearly not aggravated by her assault. A few more stitches later and the hole was sealed, although still gruesome looking.

After cutting the thread, she placed the needle on the counter. “There. Sorry it’s a little rough.”

He turned his side toward the mirror and hoisted his arm again. “Not bad. You did better than I would have.”

She placed her hands in front of her stomach. Now she had to do what she’d come in here for and... Geez... Why was it so hard to say thank you?

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