Page 109 of Balance
He stopped mid-tirade and blinked at me, leveling a wary gaze in my direction. “Are you a secret expert in first aid too?”
Unexpectedly, my heart began to race at his question. I bit my lip, fighting to keep my focus on his wound.
“No…” I muttered, reaching for my shirt—I was quickly running out of fabric. “It was never important for me to know first aid.”
I’d only ever been on the receiving end of Jason’s ministrations.
“Bianca.” Miles’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He’d sat up straighter, focus trained on me with concern thick in his gaze. “Mon rêve, where were you?”
I sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. “Nowhere.” My voice sounded strangely high-pitched, even to myself. “I’m here. Let me—” I tugged at the hem of my shirt.
“Don’t youdaretake your shirt off.” Miles’s hand closed over my wrist. “Just use the blanket.” He untied it with one hand, pulling it around him until he could push it against his leg. “It’s not too deep. We just need to stop the bleeding.” He nodded toward the knife, which had landed a short distance away. “Use that.”
There was no point in wondering what we’d use for warmth tonight. This was far more important. Regret darkened my thoughts. This was technically my fault. If repentance required that I lie on top of him to keep him warm, I’d do it.
“Okay…” I rushed to obey, crawling to the knife and returning to his side within a breath.
Gingerly, I pulled up the corner of the thick blanket, checking out the wound.
Not too deep, my butt.
“I’m going to wrap it, but you probably won’t need a tourniquet.” I pursed my lips, glancing over the rest of his leg. There was another rip in his pants below the knee, and there was really no way to salvage the rest of that piece of clothing.
He really would be cold once we were done here.
Cold, but alive. And that’s the important thing.
“Do you know how to make a tourniquet?” Miles asked, sweat beginning to break out over his brow. “Did they make one for you when…” His voice trailed off, his vision lowering.
“No,” I replied, frowning at his wound as I pulled away the blanket. Now that I was looking at it more closely, I realized he’d been right—it wasn’ttoodeep. That was good. Hopefully a bandage would do.
We could deal with cleaning and infection prevention after. We’d need a water source.
I pulled the knife across the cloth, cutting it into both square and longer-length pieces.
“My injury was too high for that,” I answered his earlier question, and with the fabric ready beside me, I pressed my hand against Miles’s stomach, making sure to keep my eyes trained on his. “Now don’t move,” I warned him. “I’m going to cut off your pants.”
“You’re sexy when you’re bossy,” Miles muttered in response, throwing me a lopsided grin.
Wonderful. He was already delusional from blood loss. I had to make this snappy.
Before he could utter more nonsense, I hooked my finger in the ripped fabric over his wound and slipped the knife in, sawing through the ruined camo. Once it was apparent the rest of the fabric would give, I set the knife back on the ground and pulled the tear apart with my hands.
Miles began cursing again, but this time in French.
“One more second.” I couldn’t look at him, I would lose my nerve. By the time the entire leg of his pants was ripped apart, he had begun to shake.
Brushing my forearm over my head, I sat back on my heels and tried to smile.
“Sorry…” My voice wavered at the end.
“It’s okay…” Miles’s eyes were squeezed shut, and his entire body was tense. “Just get it over with.” The pain seemed to have pulled him back to reality.
I bit my lip, pushing back to my knees. He was right, of course.
To his credit, Miles didn’t flinch or even curse again. Not even when he had to lift his leg because it was simply too heavy for me to raise by myself.
Finally, it was over. The wound was bandaged tightly, but there was still work to be done. I wasn’t even sure where to begin. His complexion was almost milky with pain.
