Page 4 of Savage Torment

I look from the tip of the straw to him and back again, confusion leaving me frozen in place, and he sighs.

“Drink, Polaris.” His voice may be soft, but it’s still gruff as he nudges the straw closer, and I reluctantly relent. The liquid is refreshing and I quickly get carried away with myself, guzzling it down before he snatches the straw from my lips. “You’re supposed to take sips, Amica Mea,” he exclaims, a hint of a chuckle in his words, and I glare at him.

“I was dying of a dry throat.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he places the glass on the small tray behind him before his eyes find mine again. “You weredying of an arrow to the chest, actually, but you’re on the mend now. You’re welcome.”

I frown. “I’m welcome?”

“You’re supposed to say thank you.”

“I’m trying to figure out why the hell you think I have anything to thankyoufor.” His eyebrows gather, lips pursing as he assesses me, but before he can say a word, I continue. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I’m trying to remember a damn arrow in the first place, but I’m failing miserably.

This time he leans farther back when he takes his seat, steepling his fingers before him as he continues to stare me down. “There are plenty of questions to be asking right now, and they’re not all yours.”

My eyes narrow. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Blaze. I feel like death, I don’t know what’s going on, and the last person I want to be around is you. So please, fuck off.”

The left side of his mouth curls in a sultry grin as his eyes gleam. “We both know I like you feisty, Amica Mea.”

“No,wedon’t, actually.” I roll my eyes at him, turning away as I manage to lift my hand to my face, attempting to wipe the stress away, but it does nothing to ease the weight of his presence.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to me or not?”

His face instantly darkens as he lifts his shoulder. “You’re going to have to askthemfor the whole story, but the nurse says you were impaled by an arrow to the chest. You lost a lot of blood. A-fucking-lot. And because we’re… I was the only one who could help.”

I rub my lips together nervously, hating the way the dryness grates the tender flesh, but the anxiety I feel from his proximity is impossible to hide from.

An arrow to the chest?

Glancing down, the opening of the pin-striped garment falls to the side just enough to reveal a small patch of gauze secured to my skin. Cautiously, I lift my hand, tentatively pressing against the fabric, and I wince, quickly dropping my hand as I shudder from the spark of pain.

“You probably shouldn’t touch that,” Blaze offers, and I don’t even bother to glance in his direction.

“Thanks for stating the obvious, asshole.”

“Ah, so you do know how to show appreciation,” he retorts, and I can’t stop myself from snapping my deadly stare in his direction.

“Care to explain how, out of everyone in the whole entire world, you’re the only person who could help me?” A sickly feeling nestles in my stomach, promising me whatever is about to come out of his mouth isn’t going to be fun. What I don’t expect is the dismissive shrug.

Damn.

I should always expect the worst with this asshole.

“If you don’t have anything to say, you can leave,” I grumble, waving toward the door. I’m more likely to figure this crap out for myself. I don’t need him here, especially if he’s going to be as useless as this.

“I’m good,” he states, settling further in his seat. I’m half certain he’s going to close his eyes and go back to sleep again, but instead, he points a finger at my wrist. “Wolf’s bane.”

My gaze snaps to his, a hint of guilt threatening to consume me, but I quickly rebuke it. I have nothing to be guilty of. He started this… whatever this is, and I needed to protect myself. Despite how much my limbs ache, I square my shoulders as I nod. “Wolf’s bane.”

A nod, a whisper of his lips pursing, and he shakes his head. “How long?”

“If you’re not going to offer me anything, then neither am I,” I retort, silently proud of myself for standing my ground.

“I love it when you bargain with me, Amica Mea. What are we playing for?”

“I don’t know what that means,” I chide, not bothering to narrow it down because I’m referring to every single word he said. The bargaining, the nickname, the stakes… all of it.

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