Page 33 of Till Orc Do Us Part
Too close. Too real.
She clears her throat, stands abruptly. “Rest. You’re no good to anyone dead.”
“I do not?—”
But exhaustion drags at me now, deeper than blood loss. The adrenaline fades, leaving lead in its place.
I lean back against the pillows, vision blurring.
The last thing I see is Rowan, standing in the doorway—arms crossed, watching me with something I can’t name.
Then the world goes dark.
Her hands are steady now.
Too steady.
I watch her work, silent as stone.
Rowan kneels beside me, brows drawn in concentration, lower lip caught between her teeth. Her fingers ghost over my skin—wiping away blood, smoothing salve into torn muscle.
She doesn’t look at my face.
I do not look away.
The room is too quiet. Only the storm’s distant roar and the soft brush of gauze between us.
Each touch burns hotter than the wound itself.
“You should’ve waited for help,” she murmurs, voice rough.
“I do not wait.”
“I noticed.”
A faint tremor rides through her next breath. She presses a fresh pad of gauze to the gash, fingers lingering a beat too long.
“You think you’re invincible,” she says softly.
“No.”
Her eyes flick up, meeting mine—storm-bright and furious.
“Then why?”
I hold her gaze. “Because some things are worth bleeding for.”
She swallows hard.
The air between us hums—thick with everything we aren’t saying. Every word caught on the edge of our tongues.
She pulls the bandage tighter than necessary.
I do not flinch.
Her breath shudders. “You make this impossible.”
“I am not the only one.”
