I eased back into bed beside her, careful not to jostle the mattress. She made a small sound—wordless, content—and shifted slightly closer to my warmth. I let myself relax into the pillows, watching her in the amber glow, and felt my eyes grow heavy.
Sleep came easier than I’d expected, dragging me down into darkness.
I woke to the sound of pain.
Small, breathless sounds that pulled me from sleep with the efficiency of an alarm. My eyes snapped open, immediately searching for the threat. The room was darker now—the bedside clock reading 6:27 in harsh green digits. Morning, but barely. Pale gray light was just beginning to filter through the windows, dawn still an hour away.
Violet was awake beside me, her face twisted with discomfort, her hands hovering over her chest like she wanted to touch but was afraid to.
“Violet?” I pushed up on one elbow, concern sharpening my voice. “What is wrong?”
“My nipples are on fire,” she said through gritted teeth, her breathing shallow and quick.
My blood turned to ice, cold and immediate.Side effects. The drug is still in her system.“Is it the succubus blood? Are you experiencing symptoms again?”
“Thewhat? No.” She looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “It’s not the drug, you paranoid asshole. I just got them pierced two weeks ago. You’re not supposed to play with them for like six months after.”
The guilt that slammed into me was immediate and crushing. “Fuck. Violet, I did not know. I am so sorry, I should have known better, I should have been more gentle, I should have—"
“Rowan,” she cut me off, a smile tugging at her lips despite the pain tightening her features. “How the hell would you know the first thing about proper pierced nipple aftercare?”
She was right, but it didn’t stop the tide of guilt swelling within me. “I should have asked you.” The words came out stiff, formal, weighed down with self-recrimination.
“I asked you to touch me,” she said, her tone gentler now. “Ineededyou to touch me. You think I was worried about piercing aftercare when all I could think about was fucking you?”
Her words dug deep into the darkness I was struggling to keep at bay. “That does not absolve me of—"
“Oh my god, stop.” She laughed, the sound pained but genuine. “You’re really gonna beat yourself up over this? I practically begged you to play with my nipples, and now you’re acting like you committed a crime.”
Despite everything, I felt my mouth twitch towards a smile. “I hurt you.”
“Yeah, well, it was worth it.” She shifted, wincing. “Though I’m definitely paying for it now. I need a cold compress and saline wash, or these things are gonna be angry for days.”
I was already moving, sliding out of bed with purpose. “I will get these things.”
“Saline solution, if you have it. If not, I can make some with salt and water. And something cold—ice pack, frozen vegetables, whatever you’ve got.”
I headed to the bathroom, my mind cataloging supplies. I kept a first aid kit under the sink—a remnant of survival instincts that refused to die even in this comfortable life—and I knew it contained saline solution. The freezer had ice packs I used for training injuries.
Two minutes later, I returned with my arms full: spare shirt, saline spray bottle, clean soft washcloths, two gel ice packs wrapped in thin towels so they wouldn’t be too cold against her hurting nipples.
Violet had sat up against the headboard, still nude, the sheet pooled around her waist. Morning’s pale light painted her in shades of pearl and rose, highlighting the swell of her breasts and the angry redness around both piercings. The barbells looked embedded in dried bloody tissue, the skin puffed and tender.
I did that.
“Alright,” I said, settling beside her on the bed with my supplies arranged on the nightstand like surgical instruments. “Walk me through this.”
“I’ve got it,” she said with a laugh.
“Nyet. Please let me fix what is my fault.”
She looked at me for a moment, contemplating something before she shrugged. “Fine. If it'll stop you from hovering like a guilty mother hen. . .”
“Thank you. It will.”
“It’s not complicated.” She gestured to the saline bottle. “Just spray it on, let it sit for a minute, then gently pat dry. The cold compress will help with the swelling after.”
I picked up the saline bottle, reading the label with the same focus I’d once used to identify which plants in the Wastelands were edible and which would kill you in minutes. Sterile saline solution. 0.9% sodium chloride. Wound irrigation and cleaning.
