Page 18 of Ruined

“I need to do something, and it’s going to hurt,” he warns, nodding towards my shoulder. I glance down, watching my blood seep into my sweatshirt.

Nodding, I grit my teeth waiting for the pain to start.

“Blake, I need you to take your sweatshirt off, I can’t get to your tracker with it on. And I don’t want to leave here with it still in your shoulder.”

I can’t look at him. Taking my sweatshirt off means he’ll see my body, and no one has seen that since the hospital. I refused to wear anything but baggy clothes and sweatshirts since then. I’m afraid of what Jace will think. And I don’t know why. I don’t want to be nervous around him, but I am. I shouldn’t care. But I do.

“If you don’t feel comfortable taking it off, we need to at least get that arm out so I can fish the tracker out, Sunshine.”

I bite my bottom lip. I know he needs to get it out, I can’t believe that the thing is even in me. But at the idea of being vulnerable, bile rises in my throat, threatening to spill from my mouth. I hate Mom for putting it in me, and I hate Dad for putting me in this situation.

I should’ve died.

“Sunshine,” Jace whispers.

Glancing up, I frown when I see the pain in his eyes. There’s no reason for him to be sad, not for me. I’m a job to him and I’m acting like a lovesick teenager right now worried a man she’s crushing on will think her body is ugly.

“You’re safe with me,” he says again, handing me the knife that he used to stab Joe. I shakily take it from him before he signs “promise.” Butterflies swarm around my stomach, reminding me that besides Gabriel and Tobias, no one has been this dedicated to learning the way I speak until now.

Giving him a sharp nod, Jace grabs my sleeve and slowly removes part of the sweatshirt from my shoulder. Thankfully he can’t see much of my damaged body due to the blood coating my skin.

“This is going to hurt,” he warns, right before he shoves his fingers into my shoulder. A part of me wants to scream, but I don’t. Not when the tears roll down my cheek. Instead, I bite my hand. I bite hard enough that I begin to bleed.

“Blake,” Jace pulls me out of my head. “Bite my arm,” he says.

Glancing down, he pulled his long sleeve up. I shake my head; I won’t bite him just because I can’t scream.

“I’m serious, I almost have it, but I won’t just let you bite your hand. So, bite my arm.”

I should fight him on this, but the look he gives me says he won’t take no for an answer. So when he starts digging into my shoulder once more, I don’t think twice before latching onto his arm and biting down. It’s harder than I did to my hand, but Jace doesn’t even flinch or stop working on my shoulder.

His blood coats my mouth and against my will, I feel myself getting slick between my thighs. I’m ashamed and hate myself for it. After everything I’ve been through, I shouldn’t be getting turned on by this pain, especially not from inflicting it on Jace. But I do.

Thankfully, it’s not much longer before Jace pulls a small piece of metal from my shoulder. “Fuck,” he grunts.

Pulling back, he yanks his shirt off, holding it against my shoulder. I feel my head beginning to grow dizzy, and my vision blurs.

“We need to get going,” he rushes out. I glance down at the bloodbath around us. Eight bodies lie around, blood coating the concrete.

And for the first time, I find myself wanting to laugh. Not sure if it was due to the number of bodies lying around us or because I once again found myself in the middle of blood and mayhem. Only this time, I’m slightly glad Jace is here with me. The one who kept his promise and protected me from harm. My shoulder screams in protest,or at least very little harm.

Jace helps me to my feet before wrapping his arm around my waist and practically carrying me as he searches for another car to steal, I assume. Keeping my eyes down on the ground, it does nothing to stop the thoughts of how he feels against my side. Here I am hating physical touch yet craving his like a moth to a flame. How fucking cliche. Why does the one person who was sent here on a job, someone ordered to protect me, bring the neediness out in me? I don’t want to need him.

“Come on,” he says, leaning me against a car. “Stay here.”

I shake my head. I couldn’t go anywhere, even if I wanted to. I wouldn't make it two feet before Jace would find me face flat on the ground. Glancing up, my eyes trace the blood spot trailing from where we were to where I’m currently standing.

That’s a lot of blood.

“Blake?”

I slowly raise my head, and Jace frowns at me. I can’t move my hands to sign, not with my shoulder, so I try to convey what I want to say. Though I probably just look like I’m constipated. Definitely not a look someone wants to have when they think their bodyguard is hot. Thankfully, I don’t speak, because old me would have said that out loud.

“Fuck,” he mutters. I’m not sure why, but with the way he rushes forward and tries to move me into the passenger seat, I must not be looking too good. “We’re going to fix you up, it’ll be okay,” Jace mumbles. I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or me. If I could sign and he’d understand, I’d tell him to just leave me here. I’d probably just bleed out or let the crows eat me alive.

My eyes grow heavy the moment he gets inside and pulls away. Something about being around him and in a moving vehicle has me calm enough that I’m getting sleepy. Or the fact he was just digging in my shoulder, and I might actually bleed out.

“Blake,” Jace calls. “I need you to stay awake, baby, stay awake for me.”

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