Page 116 of Carnal Games

“Whichever gets you to listen,” he retorts, returning to the couch.

“What time is it?”

“Two a.m.”

Has he been up the entire time? He can’t possibly think of staying up till morning. “You should get some sleep too, Kian.”

He picks up his book. “I’m fine.”

“At least change your clothes. It’s not like I’m going anywhere in my state.”

“Stop worrying about me,” he orders. “I’m used to staying up till four in the morning when I come back from The Mirage. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not healthy. When do you sleep?”

Ignoring his book, he glances at me. “I didn’t say I come home at four every night.”

“You work too much. It’s going to bite you in the ass one day.”

His gaze turns warm at my insult, which boggles me.

“The pain med seems to be working.”

“Huh?” I do feel boneless and floating on a cloud. My mind wanders, making me realize I never bothered to check what I’m wearing.

Curious, I peek underneath the blanket. I’m in a simple black tee and soft cotton shorts. They’re not my clothes. However, I’m more intrigued about how I got into them rather than who they belong to.

Raising my gaze to Kian, who hasn’t looked away, I shyly ask, “Did…um, you change my clothes?”

“No. Rosalie did at the hospital.”

“Oh,” I grumble.How disappointing.Catching Kian watching me intently, I conceal my expression and reply, “I mean. Thanks for calling her.”

Crap. Not even being injured is stopping my mind from having dirty thoughts like a hussy. I blame the stupid drugs. And him. Especially him, in those masculine glasses, looking like a stern headmaster.

My eyes begin to droop and I blink to keep them from closing.

“Stop fighting it,” Kian murmurs. “Close your eyes.”

I obey, burrowing my head against the pillow. Before I’m dragged into peaceful slumber, I whisper, “Don’t leave me.”

I’m not sure he heard me, but I catch a faint promise. “I won’t,little rainbow.”

Chapter Thirty

Iris

The next morning, as I wake up, I’m groggy. My body is sore as hell. Memories of yesterday play in my head, and I shoot upright in the bed, which is a terrible mistake. Biting pain travels up my stomach and to my chest. I can feel the swelling in one of my eyes, and it parts just a fraction.

An irrational fear rises. What if it never heals and I’m left with one eye?

I need to see the damage or my mind will keep imagining worst-case scenarios. An insistent pressure in my bladder reminds me I also need to pee very badly. Pushing my bangs away from my face, I look around the room I slept in.

The walls are done in a combination of light and a dark gray that almost looks black, with a large mantel and a huge plasma screen television mounted on the wall across the foot of the bed. A modern abstract painting hangs on my right near an adjoined door. Behind the couch where Kian was reading last night is another tall door.

I’m assuming one is an en suite bathroom and the other is a closet. Reminded of my body’s needs, I shove aside the blanket and gingerly step down from the four-poster bed. It’s built higher than the bed in my apartment.

Since Rosalie is taller than me, her shirt ends right below my cotton shorts as I drag myself to the nearest door, hoping it’s the bathroom. Luckily, it is, and as I enter my jaw goes slack. It’s double the size of my bedroom at my parents’ house.

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