“I don’t assume. Iknowyou know how to sew.” He wiggles the needle at me, trying and failing to hide the pinched expression his movement causes.
“How would you know that?” I cross my arms over my chest.
He huffs. “Can you just sew me up, so I can lie down? It’s been a long day.”
“No.”
“Wildflower.” I can hear his patience thinning.
“Prince?” I chime sardonically.
His eyes narrow into slits.
“That,” I point to his still somewhat gaping wound, “is disgusting. Even if I did know how to sew, which I’m not admitting that I do.” I absolutely know how to sew. “Sewing clothes and sewing human flesh are not the same.”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“Braxton, there is nothing you can say that—”
“Please.”
The rest of my words get caught in my lungs. I can’t hide my shock at hearing him say please, and I momentarily become distracted in wondering if I can get him to say it again. The image of him begging me on his knees flashes through my mind, and I feel a warmth pool between my legs. It doesn’t help that he’s sitting there with his bare chest exposed to me. Wound or no wound, his body is an immaculate combination of lean muscles and sculpted edges. Not to mention, he had me all but singing his name in the library only a few hours ago. Sky’s Divine, I can’t believe everything that has unfolded in a matter of hours.
“Say it again,” I demand, not taking my eyes from his.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve made some kind of mistake when I see a hint of mirth hiding behind his pointed glare.
He drops his voice to a low timber before repeating, “Please,” in a husky whisper.
Goosebumps prickle my flesh. Now, that is something I could get used to.
“Sit back,” I say, not bothering to hide the way that made my entire body flush.
I pass the thin thread through the eye of the needle and take a deep breath. As I push the tip of the needle through Braxton’s flesh, I’m grateful that he doesn’t move or make a sound. Otherwise, I certainly would not be able to continue doing this.
I quickly find that I was, in fact, very much right. Sewing up skin and sewing a dress do not feel the same whatsoever. Sure, the flick of the wrist and technique might be somewhat the same, but the feeling of pinching his flesh and driving a needle through it has me on the verge of losing my stomach.
“So, what was all that about?” I blurt, needing something to distract me from the way his flesh squishes ever so slightly whenever I push the needle through it.
“Gravesley losing his mind and trying to kill both of us?” He’s trying to keep his tone light, but I can see the bits of stress creasing the skin between his brows.
“Well, he wasn’t trying to kill me,” I clarify. “He said he was going to take me outside the castle. He said something about me ruining his plan. Then, when he was talking to you, it seemed like he knew a lot about your curse.”
Braxton nods his head, and I can see he’s trying to be meticulous with what he says next. With a huff, I stab the needle more aggressively into his side. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t object to the pain. “I wish I could tell you more, Azalea, but I can’t. I really can’t.” His face pinches as if he’s in pain admitting that out loud.
“Are our curses intertwined? Is that why we’re both stuck in this castle?”
He blows out a slow breath.
“Let me guess, you can’t tell me?” I twist my mouth to the side and try to remember everything Gravesley said. Still, the more I think about it, the more my head aches and nothing makes sense.
“He said something about me remembering things.” I shake my head, and I see something flash in Braxton’s features that I’ve never seen before. Not even when Gravesley was threatening his life. Fear. True, genuine fear. I must be getting close to something.
“What am I supposed to be remembering?”
“Azalea, I…” His voice trails off.
“I know.” I wave my hand to silence him. “You can’t tell me,” I mock with a huff.
