I hated that thing with a passion.
I wanted to tear it out of him.
Help him.
Savehim.
He glanced down at the disc, his hands balling beneath the water. When he looked back up again, his face was unreadable. “Go change.”
My mind raced to know. My tongue burned with questions. “Is there any way to remove it?”
His lips thinned. “If there was, don’t you think I would’ve by now?”
My temper grew hotter, combatting the chills from the cold plunge. For the millionth time, I wished I hadn’t failed at life. That I wasn’t so broken by emotions and had somehow applied myself. I could’ve become a doctor so I could unlock his heart from whatever shackles they’d bound him in.
What sort of life was it that his every heartbeat betrayed him? That they harnessed the very thing keeping him alive—turning it into a weapon?
Another bloom of blood appeared in the water, spreading behind him. “T-Turn around.” My shivers still made my teeth chatter even as my insides warmed with rebellion. “Let me see how badly they hurt you.”
He didn’t obey, his eyes tight and cutting. “I’ve already dealt with it.”
“L-Let me see.”
His teeth ground together. “Why would I obey you?”
“Because I c-care, that’s w-why.” Bracing myself, I leaped back into the horrible, bone-breakingly cold water and darted around him before he could stop me.
My hands landed on his naked back, my gaze following the thin trail of blood spilling from a small wound on his left shoulder.
He shuddered as I pressed closer, peering at his injury. Sucking in a breath, I ran my thumb over it, tracing the angry broken skin—
He jerked as though I’d branded him.
He spun around, droplets flinging from his body. In a blur of ice and fire, he shoved me backward and pinned me against the side of the pool. The impact made me gasp, trapped between the frigid wall and the blistering heat of him.
My dressing gown floated like creamy seaweed as his hands clamped onto my hips, gripping me tight.
“I told you,” he snarled. “I’vedealtwith it.”
“But you’re s-still b-bleeding. Let me—”
“It was a throwing dart.”
“A what—?”
“I’ve ripped it out and the wound is small.” His chest rose and fell too fast, his gaze tearing through mine. “The weapons they manage to smuggle in are usually small and more troublesome than dangerous.”
“I don’t r-really care if it’s d-dangerous or not. I-It still m-made you bleed.”
“Stop chattering. It’s incredibly annoying.”
“I-I’m not doing it o-on p-purpose.” I tried to see his back again. “Let me—”
“Leave italone. That’s the last warning I’ll give you before I get angry.” He didn’t shiver like me but radiated a false fever that felt utterly inhuman.
My heart hammered. “But—”
“I saidleave it.” He was close enough that the temperature difference felt as if we were completely different species: him made of volcanic fire and me cocooned in a snowdrift.
