Page 15 of The Minotaur's Milkmaid
“Well,” he says, dragging a hand through his wet hair, “that was easy.”
Chapter Ten
Don’t You Dare Cry Dakar
Dakar
Ican’t believe that little fucker shot me.
My shoulder burns. It almost feels as if I’ve been branded. I wade back into the water, and blood is trickling down my forearm. I’ve taken worse from simple sparring practice, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to beat that farm boy’s scrawny, human ass into the next moon cycle if he shows his face again.
I reach Maeve, who's still in the water. Her arms crossed tightly over her bare chest, and she’s shivering like a startled doe. Her face is sheet white. Partly from the cold, the rest from shock. My poor, innocent little mate.
“Come on, little cow,” I say to her gently, reaching for her despite the sharp ache slicing through my arm. “Let’s get you warm.”
She doesn’t argue, letting me guide her out of the water. I have to grit my teeth to keep my cock from stirring as I watch the droplets racing down the curves of her body, and the adorable red mane between her legs. It’s an image that refuses to leave my mind.Now is not the time, I scold myself. She's scared, and I’m not atotalbeast.
But Gods, she’s beautiful.
I grab the dry tunic I brought with us and hold it open. “Arms up.”
She bites her lip, hesitating, then lifts her arms slowly, letting me slip the tunic over her head. It falls to her thighs, clinging to her damp skin.
“There,” I murmur, adjusting her collar gently. “Though I much preferred you naked and moaning my name in the spring.”
She flushes so red I swear I can feel the heat radiating off her. Just like I hoped, the color returns to her cheeks. But her eyes are locked on my arm. “You’re bleeding.”
“Am I?” I glance at the blood soaking my shoulder, acting like I’d only just noticed. “Ah, Right.That. I forgot.” I grin at her. “You’re looking at me like youcare, little cow.”
She scowls at me, but her lip wobbles, tears brimming in her eyes.
“I told you I’d protect you,” I murmur, gliding my hand down the curve of her back to urge her forward. “And I meant it.”
I lead her back to the cave, ignoring the hot throb of my wound, focusing instead on the way she keeps glancing up at me,as if I might suddenly collapse at any moment. Sweet, little cow. She doesn’t even realize I’d carry her the whole way back with one arm if I had to.
Once we’re back inside the cave, I make her sit on the furs and wrap a thick pelt around her shoulders. She pulls it tight, still shaken, still so damn beautiful it hurts. I sit down next to her, careful not to touch her too much, though my eyes can't help but roam over her form, the way the tunic clings to her still-damp skin.
Only when she’s tucked in do I finally slump down nearby, the adrenaline starting to fade, the pain spiking from my shoulder.
I reach for the small iron blade tucked in my belt and bite back a grunt as I look down at my shoulder. The wound’s already angry and swollen, the bullet lodged just beneath the skin. Shallow, thank the stars; the little bastard missed anything important.
“Going to have to dig it out,” I mutter.
Maeve sits up on the furs, clutching the pelt around her. “You’re really going to…do that yourself?”
I give her a grin that I know looks a little unhinged. “Well, unless you’ve got a better idea, sweetling.”
She squeaks as I slide the blade into my own shoulder, digging in slowly. The pain flares white-hot, bright enough to see stars. My jaw clenches, but I don’t make a sound. I’ve endured worse. The bloody bullet falls to the cave floor with a clink.
“See?” I say, panting slightly. “Easy.”
“That was not easy,” Maeve says, staring at me in horror.
Using my teeth, I tear a strip of linen from the tunic Maeve wore last night and try to wrap it around the wound. But, turns out, one-handed bandaging isn’t one of my many talents.
Maeve shifts closer. “Let me help.”
I stare at her. “You sure?”
