Page 38 of Ronan

Every godsdamned synapsis in my brain.

It all halts until all that’s left is him.

The very roadmap of my being shatters into a million pieces, reforming as the mark on my hand sings its pleasure, my soul screaming with the rightness of his body against mine.

My blood is on fire as I whirl, wrapping my arms around Cameron and pulling him infinitely closer until he consumes every one of my senses. His taste is on my tongue, his scent surrounding me, his skin hot under my hands, but it’s not enough.

It’s not fucking enough.

My fingers lace through his hair and my teeth tug at his lips, demanding entrance as my hips roll against him, my body alive at the contact. The sounds that leave me are feral, clawing at his clothes in my desperation for more.

“There you are,” he whispers against my kiss, hands still on my cheeks. “That’s it, big guy. Come back to me.” My eyes snap open, the fog in my mind clearing as bright blue meets my darkness, and reality hits me in a crushing blow.

I tear my mouth from his and scramble backward, shame burning hot as I realize I was mauling him like an animal in heat. A painful swallow catches in my throat as I sink back on my haunches, my heavy head drooping. “Fuck, Cameron, I’m so sorry,” I rasp, exhaustion hitting me like a hammer to the knees as the world sways.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he says, standing and reaching for me. “Come on, let’s get you inside and clean.” I jerk my hand away, ashamed of the way I attacked him, and Cameron’s annoyed sigh lets me know his temper is close to snapping.

He kneels in front of me, a steady hand landing on my chin and forcing me to meet his eyes. “You are exhausted and losing blood. As you love to point out, I’m skinny, and I sure as hell can’t carry your oversized ass if you’re unconscious. So,please, Ronan—let’s get inside so I can help you.”

With a tired nod, I agree, and he stands as I wobble to my feet. My brows pinch at the unfamiliar, heavy way my body moves, limbs full of lead and feet cased in cement. “Shit,” he mutters, wedging himself under my arm and dragging me forward as my vision goes spotty. We barely make it up the stairs and inside the house, Cameronstaggering under my weight. My body crashes onto the couch as my eyes flutter closed and I’m lost to the world.

Chapter 13

Cameron

Ronan’s massive body takes up every square inch of the couch. I mean, of course I knew he was big, but this is ridiculous. His head lies on the cushions, raven hair fanned into a messy crown, arms flung wide, and legs akimbo in a tangled mess. It creaked under his weight as he collapsed, and I’m not convinced the whole thing won’t just fall to pieces at any moment.

The blood on his face is thick and caked in places, while in others it’s still wet and shiny. It streaks his cheek from the shallow cut and smears his chin and lips from his busted nose, which is already swollen. Other random smudges paint across his forehead and mat in his hair.

A low whine escapes Boomerang as she watches with wide, anxious eyes. I shoo her away, relieved when she curls up in the corner, and I return my attention to Ronan.

The most severe bleeding is on his forearm, tacky as it dries on the leather. A metallic punch hits my nose as I pull off his glove, and I turn my head and retch when a pool of blood pours out onto the floor with a splatter. Acidis caustic in my throat as I throw my arm over my nose, trying to block the coppery scent.

Fucking hells, why is battle so gross?

After a few frustrating attempts to push up the sleeve of his armor, which is stubbornly stiff and resistant against his wounded arm, I realize I’m going to have to remove it. “Oh, come on,” I mutter as my gaze falls to the network of intricate ties and clasps that secure it to his torso.

The metal buckles clank as I release each fastening, until the two sides slide apart with a quiet creak. Mesmerized, I stare at the mauve expanse of skin before me, covered in bruises and scars that are a roadmap of past injuries. What sort of damage would leave these types of scars on a monster that heals so quickly? The thought makes my skin crawl, but is quickly forgotten as my gaze slides over his abdomen. Defined muscles bunch and bulge beneath, glistening with sweat.

And damn.

I mean…damn.

He looks as though he was carved straight from marble and impure thoughts.

It’s one thing to know he’s in shape, but seeing the hard, sculpted lines of his abs, the almost imperceptible ripple of muscle as he inhales, is breathtaking. His pecs swell, perfectly defined, with dusty purple nipples standing taut.

Ronan whimpers in his sleep, and I scold myself for getting distracted as I work his arm from the sleeve. The sticky blood has dried into a paste against his skin, so it takes a few attempts before it slides loose. His body is stupidly heavy as I lift the deadweight of his torso, but finally, Imanage to get that side off. The other sleeve comes off easily, and I set the armor aside.

The glove covering his mark remains on his hand, and I decide to leave it alone. Revealing it feels invasive while he’s asleep.

Like the rest of this isn’t invasive?I think as I glance at his almost-naked body.

Armed with clean towels and a few bottles, I work on his arm. Water runs red the first time I pour it over the wound, and it takes several more attempts before I’m able to assess the extent of the injury.

I only gag a few times.

Bile churns in the back of my throat as I stare at the deep split of skin; red, bleeding muscle cut further than I’d hoped. It isn’t to the bone, but can’t be far. I heave again but force it down and get started.

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