“Lie down,” I say.
Delilah stares up at me, clutching the towel like a lifeline. As if a piece of material would stop me from taking what’s mine.
“Why?”
“I want to check your wound.”
She does as I ask, her gaze still wary. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
“What did you say?”
I halt. “‘Always.’ Why?”
She takes a deep breath. “That’s something Ben and I say to each other. It’s a promise.”
A spark of jealousy lands on the darkness of my soul, igniting sinister thoughts. I have to remind myself that I can’t kill her foster brother if I want to win her heart. “If you can accept McKenzie’s promise, then you’d better take my word as well.”
She closes her eyes. “Just get this over with. I can’t look, or I’ll pass out.”
“I’ll be quick.”
I want to push her to trust me like she trusts Benjamin, but I know that’ll take a while. The way she obeyed me during the Trial showed me that she did once. Having to start all over again is going to drive me crazy with impatience.
I carefully peel back the bandage and examine the wound. It’s not bad, all things considered. The incision looks clean, the stitches neat and even. She’ll have a scar, but it’s not going to detract from her beauty in any way.
My gaze slides up to the brand on her shoulder. The skin isn’t fully healed, but it’s beginning to look less aggravated. Although it wasn’t something I wanted for her, I can’t deny that the sight of it turns me on. Seeing my girl with the letter of our last name on her body? I could come just from looking at it.
“What do you think?” Delilah asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It looks fine. No signs of infection.”
“Oh good.” She opens her eyes and blinks several times. “The room is spinning a little.”
“Painkillers will do that. Hold still while I replace the bandage.”
I cover the wound with a thin layer of ointment and secure it with a fresh bandage. Delilah watches me the entire time, her gaze becoming more clouded with every minute.
“Lift up so I can remove the towel,” I say.
When she does as I command, I’m quick to pull the sheet up to hide her body. It doesn’t help much. My brain has been seared with the image of her and refuses to get rid of it.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
She waves a hand. “A little, but I want to sleep first.”
I run my gaze over her. The sight of my girl like this is one I could get used to. She’s all soft and pink, her damp hair curling around her face. Then there’s her docile expression, her lips slightly parted, her eyes glazed.
“What are you going to do while I sleep?” she asks.
“Masturbate.”
She bursts out laughing. “Be serious.”
I am.“I’ll be right here, watching you all day and night.”
“That’s not creepy at all, Edward Cullen.”
