For some reason, each cut now produced a memory along with a pepper strip.
Lucy—braver than I realized at the time—got out of the transport van. I was watching from a window, peering through a gap in the blinds. I’d felt visceral hate at the sight of her in that suit. She represented everything DemonX rejected. We met the world with little care for safety, our focus on chasing the rush of danger. Here she was shuffling forward in a protective suit. Ridiculous.
Lucy walking through our front door. Her eyes taking in the bloody photographs, my target—intentionally threatening—the empty liquor bottles, the women’s underwear, the general mayhem we’d created to greet her.
Lucy, taking off her helmet even though it risked her health, her face defiant as Xander put on the heart necklace. And her scent, somehow winning out over the reek of Asher’s gasoline, hitting my nostrils and making me question everything. Though, I’d squashed the recognition. I’d refused to let my inner Alpha reach for her.
Lucy suffering the indignity of using the buckets.
Lucy on her hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom.
Lucy against my target, standing perfectly still as my blades whizzed through the air towards her.
Lucy’s body being pulled from the tent wreckage.
My hand slipped, the blade edge caught my skin. The memory sloughed away and I focused down at the line of red welling up across my index finger.
“You cut yourself,” Lucy was beside me suddenly, grabbing my cut hand and pulling it towards her.
Embarrassment flooded me. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d accidentally hurt myself with a knife. On purpose? Sure. Those cuts were shallow; they hurt so damn good. But not by accident.
“Do you have a first aid kit?” Lucy stared up at me, green eyes half hidden behind thick lashes.
I nodded stupidly.
“Where?” She asked, a smile playing at her lips.
“Cabinet over the fridge.”
Lucy started walking, pulling me along with her. When we got to the sink, she guided my hand under the tap and turned on a cool stream of water. “Rinse it for a minute.”
I listened, like I didn’t decide my own actions anymore; that was all Lucy’s business. I watched as she turned away from me, padding over to the fridge. She put her hands on her hips, looking up at the high cabinet. She moved to the counter, pressing palms against its surface and trying to hoist herself up. When she couldn’t, she turned to me with a frown.
“Why would you guys put it so high up? Not everybody is ten feet tall.”
Fuck, she was the prettiest thing ever when she pouted.
I turned off the tap, shaking off water and wrapping a paper towel around my finger. The blood had already slowed. I walked over to Lucy, eyes locked on her face, memorizing every detail.
“Turn around,” I said gently. She cocked her head curiously but listened.
Wrapping my hands around her waist, I lifted her up high enough to reach over the fridge. She laughed nervously, hands covering mine, telling me to put her down.
“I’ll never let you fall, Lucy-Loo.”
“I don’t like heights,” she admitted, but then her arms lifted. She opened the cabinet, finding the red first aid bag and pulling it towards her.
I lowered her slowly, placing her gently on her feet. My fingers tingled when I released her waist, already itching to hold her again. Her smile was so warm. Her eyes turning a brighter green, seeming to hold inner light.
She moved away from me, and I followed like a damn lap dog. I’d follow her anywhere, I realized.
Lucy made quick work of bandaging the tiny wound, even though it was all but invisible now.
“You’d make a great nurse,” I murmured, staring down at my finger.
“No,” she said resolutely, “I’d be a terrible one, always sneaking my patients stuff they shouldn’t have or taking them outside when they’re not ready. I couldn’t watch people miss out on life the way I did.”
How was she still so kind? How could she look at me with concern in her gaze?Lucy had endured our cruelty and coldness, coming out the other side wholly unpolluted.
