Page 116 of Beautiful Exile

“Hey,” Arden huffed. “I read.”

She removed the tampon from the wrapper as I watched skeptically. But it wasn’t as if I had a better idea. Arden’s gentle fingers prodded the area around the wound, studying it. Then she looked up at me. “This really isn’t going to feel good.”

“Should I ask for the bourbon and a strap to bite down on like in the Westerns?”

“Linc. Please stop joking.”

I saw it then, the true terror Arden was trying to shove down. “Vicious,” I whispered, pulling her to me.

Arden’s forehead dropped to mine, and she trembled against me.

“I’m going to be fine. You’re going to patch me up, and then we’re going to get the hell out of here,” I assured her.

She pulled back a fraction, searching my eyes. “I think I should leave you with the rifle and Brutus. I’ll take Stardust and ride for home as fast as I can.”

“No.” There was a slap to that single word, a finality.

“Linc—”

“No.” I put even more force behind it the second time. “We stick together, you and me.”

Those gray-violet eyes glistened, and Arden’s jaw clenched with the struggle of holding back tears. “Don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I’m pretty partial to you, as well. So, why don’t we stick together and watch each other’s backs?”

Arden nodded, a slight tremor in the movement. “Okay. Because I’m gonna be really pissed if you die on me.”

I chuckled and instantly regretted it. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Arden winced. “Sorry.” Her gaze swept over my face. “Ready to get the worst of this over?”

I swallowed hard. “Ready.”

She pressed a kiss to my mouth and then stayed there for a second. “Close your eyes. That way you won’t know it’s coming.”

I did as she instructed and focused on breathing. There was rustling, I felt Arden’s fingers around the wound and then, without warning, blinding pain. The kind that stole your breath and made the whole world disappear around you.

All I could do was breathe—try to grab hold of air, over and over. Just as I caught that precious oxygen, pain flared in a fresh wave of white-hot agony. I kept breathing.

Some part of me was aware of Arden bandaging the sites, and then the pain dulled as if I could feel the disconnect between my body and mind.

“Drink this.” Arden wrapped my hand around a small bottle.

“I hope it’s bourbon,” I croaked.

“You get home without giving out on me, and I’ll give you all the bourbon you want.”

My eyes flickered open. No bourbon, but the last of the orange juice. Probably not a bad idea to get a little sugar in the system. I tossed it back. “Hope this isn’t leaking into my gut.”

“Not funny,” Arden growled.

“Easy, Vicious,” I said, grabbing her hand. “Look where I was shot. Barely more than a graze. I doubt it hit anything vital.”

Arden glared at me. “If you’re not right, I’m kicking your ass.”

“So grumpy when emotions are involved.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you want to try to stand, or do you need more time?”

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