Page 103 of Ruthless Creatures
I should let her find a normal man and live a normal life and keep watch over her at a distance.
But as she gazes up at me with those beautiful ocean eyes filled with emotion, I know I won’t do any of those things.
Even if I did somehow find the strength to leave, I couldn’t stay away. She’s already proven too powerful for me to resist. Too addictive. I’m too far under her spell.
So the truth isn’t an option.
The only choice I have is to live this double life as carefully as I can. To keep everything separate. The paths of my footsteps on the East Coast and the West can never cross.
I can’t make a single misstep on this tightrope I’m walking, because her life is at stake.
And I can’t lose her.
If ever I do, I’ll burn the whole world to the ground before following her into the dark.
TWENTY-FIVE
NAT
After the shower, I pour Kage a whiskey and make him sit at the kitchen table, where the light is good. Then I get a needle and thread from my sewing kit, hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom cabinet, a small cotton towel, and gauze pads.
Standing in front of him, looking at this huge tattooed man sitting in my kitchen chair wearing only the pair of gray sweats I bought for him as a gift, I’m filled with a sudden burning bright happiness. It’s blinding, like I’m staring into the sun.
To manage it without blurting something foolish, I say, “I don’t have any tape.”
Lounging in the chair like the king of libertines, he takes a swig of the whiskey, licks his lips, and smiles at me. “For what?”
“The bandages. I can’t glue them on, I need medical tape.”
“Do you have any duct tape?”
“I’m not putting duct tape on you! That stuff’s industrial strength! It’ll rip your skin off when you remove it!”
He looks at the sewing kit in my hand. “You’ll stitch me up withcotton thread that’s going to degrade and give me an infection so I’ll die from sepsis, but you draw the line at duct tape?”
I stare at the thread in dismay. “Oh crap. What should I use, then?”
“Fishing line’s good. If you don’t have that, unflavored dental floss.”
I don’t ask how he knows that. I just go back into the bathroom and get my dental floss, then return to the kitchen. He’s pouring another glass of whiskey.
“Good idea. That’ll help to numb the pain.”
“This isn’t for me. It’s for you.”
“I don’t think it’s smart for me to drink alcohol before attempting surgery.”
“And I don’t think it’s smart for my doctor to attempt surgery on me with such shaky hands.”
We both look at my hands. They’re definitely shaking.
“Fine. Give it to me.”
I set all my supplies on the table. He hands me the glass of whiskey. I down most of it and give him back the glass. “Okay, I’ll sit over here. You should turn—”
“You’ll sit here.”
He pulls me down onto his lap, facing him, my thighs open around his hips.
