Page 30 of Cold-Blooded Creatures
“That does sound nice.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Want to go with me?”
“You need to keep it clean, or you will get an infection.” He jerked his chin toward my faintly throbbing hand. They must’ve given me some pain meds while I was out or I’d be crying right now.
I snorted at his concern. “Fuck off.” Like he wasn’t the one who’d made me do this to myself.
“Those are some filthy words coming from such a pretty mouth.” With his back to me, he placed his supplies on the bedside table and chose a brown glass bottle, a cotton pad, and a roll of white gauze.
“You won’t think it’s pretty when it bites your head off,” I sneered.
He chuckled. He freaking chuckled at me. Like he enjoyed the threat. The sound of it twisted the ignition key on my rage. I meant it. I was going to make sure he didn’t stay alive for long.
He prowled toward me, soaking the cotton pad with what I’d deducted was an antiseptic from the pungent smell. I instinctively stepped backward, and my upper thighs collided with the dresser.
Stopping a foot away, he trapped me in place. “Give me your hand.”
A scheme of sorts, a plan, swirled in his eyes, the shade of deep brown with black specks. As if he didn’t want to give fully in to the night and it’d left the marks of their war in his irises.
My arm raised of its own accord, and he gently brought my palm to his mouth. The first kisses landing on my stitches caused tingles to curl my toes.
I hissed, “I can take care of myself.”
The black streaks exploded in his eyes. He set the med supplies on the dresser, grabbed my waist, and hoisted me up on top. “Yet you are failing so far.”
Though his grip abandoned my body, the imprints of his hands refused to evaporate from my flesh. That and him standing a mere increment from me, between my legs, made my mouth dry out.
“Who says I want this to heal?” Cool air from the open window caressed my back, and I shivered in the loose dark purple t-shirt and matching pants someone had left on my bed while I was out. The cotton clothing was comfortable, but thecolor… I was a black-banded person, and only green-banded wore vivid colors. Aversion to anything besides the basics—white, black, and gray—had rooted itself deep inside me.
“I do.” He disinfected my stitched-up wound with the cotton pad and wrapped a roll of fresh gauze around my palm. The sizzles traveling up my nerves increased to a sudden jolt of pain as he tied a knot. “All done. Unless you want to fight me some more?”
“Get the hell away from me.” I ripped my wrist out of his clutches and hurriedly leaned back to get away. Wavering, I lost my balance, and the white window frame flashed before my eyes as I fell backward.
I was going to fall out of the window at my back.
And crash into the street below.
I didn’t want to die.
Not yet.
Firm hands gripped my back and nape and pulled me back up. Without thinking, I clutched at his black shirt, panting despite the breeze tickling my back and the heavy air drawing sweat beads to form on my forehead.
He smirked. “That’s not the way out.”
“Get away from me.” I shoved at his chest. He didn’t budge. Grimacing, I pulled my legs on the dresser and hopped down the side of it. I had to get out. My heart was racing too fast. “I’m leaving.”
“Before you go, how about we enjoy a dinner? You must be hungry after all those dreams about me.”
“Fuck you.” Arrogant prick. As if I was having dinner with him after he’d drugged and kidnapped me. Especially when I still had no idea where I was. Or who he was. And the other candy-looking one, too.
He crouched down to collect the discarded shreds of old gauze from the pale wood floor. “I’m counting on it.”
My stomach betrayed me by twitching.
“Go drool over someone else,” I sneered and darted to the door—my escape. He had left it wide open and unmanned.
Bolting into an empty hallway, I risked taking a left turn and rushed toward the end.
A rough grasp on my upper arm jerked me back and twisted me so harshly I crashed into his chest.
