Page 132 of A Curse On Black Lake
Jogging out of the trees, I find Eliana barefoot with a flashlight and her shotgun.
“Here,” I call, so she doesn’t shoot me.
She spins around, dropping the flashlight and gun, and runs to me. I catch her in my arms, and she wraps herself around me, locking her ankles at my back. “Are you okay?” she gasps.
I hug her, and she’s shaking like a leaf, squeezing my neck so tightly it’s hard to breathe.
“I’ll be fine. Are you?” I ask her, securing my arms around her.
She kisses my cheek. “I am now. I can’t believe you went after him. I know you used to be a captain, but you’re not anymore, so you can’t go after people.”
I grunt carrying her towards the flashlight and the shotgun, ignoring the burn in my side. The last thing we need is this asshole coming back and trying to kill both of us. He seems like the type.
“Why not?” I ask her.
“Because I said so,” she snaps, still shaking in my arms.
“Yes ma’am. But I knew what I was doing,” I tell her.
When we finally get to the house, I set the shotgun down and Eliana drops from my body.
She grabs my ribs, and I hiss. Eliana yanks her hands back, grimacing.
“Killian, you’re bleeding!” Eliana shrieks, her voice near panicked as she inspects the blood all over my half-unbuttoned shirt.
“I’m okay, darlin’, really.”
“Let me get some salve, and somethin’ to clean out the cuts. Didhedo that to you?” she asks.
I nod.
She worries her bottom lip and disappears to the front of the house, into the apothecary. Then hurries back with tins and pieces of cotton cloth perfectly square.
“Sit down,” she says.
“Eliana, really, I’m fine. I’ll put some ointment on it or somethin’.”
She levels me with a glare, and I take that as a —listen or else.
I hold up my hands. “Alright, alright,” I mutter and drop down in the chair next to the dinner table.
She grabs my shirt and unbuttons the few remaining still together on my shirt. Her icy fingers brush against my skin, and I puff out a rough breath.
The corner of her mouth quirks up as she pushes back my shirt, and I watch her assess the four gashes across my ribs.
“My goodness, did he have talon nails?” she mutters.
I don’t answer as I watch her white hair fall into her face and she absently pushes it back while her brows furrow in concentration, as she cleans the gashes.
“Could you see him?” she asks.
“No, but I smelled peppermint. Thought it was kind of weird.”
Eliana stops. “You know who else smells like peppermint?” she asks.
I nod because I don’t want to say it.
She seems to get that, and opens one of her tins. Lavender wafts up into my nose, and she dabs the salve over the gashes.
