He shared a look with his cousin before Ezra got to work distracting Rani and leading her away from what was about to be a tense conversation.
Once they were out of earshot, I met Kaiden’s questioning gaze. “I’m fine.”
It was an obvious lie, one that only angered Kaiden more as we made our way to the truck. He didn’t ask me anything else, just stewed in silence until Ezra hopped in ten minutes later. I watched out the window as the trees faded from view, thankful to have made it out alive. My side throbbed with each bump on the road.
“Tell me what the fuck happened out there,” Kaiden ordered. His shadows leaked around him, darkening the cab even further.
Ezra looked at me around the headrest, but the new lack of light made it hard for him to see anything.
“A djinn attacked,” I replied. “Said his father would reward him for my death, tried to kill me, and then scratched me. I’mfine.”
“What exactly did he say about his father?” Ezra questioned.
So, I broke it down for them. Every step into the fog, each word the djinn spewed, how Rani saved me, and how I in turn had to violate her mind. As I spoke, Kaiden reeled his shadows back, and the overhead light clicked on.
“Tell us again about this scratch.” Ezra pointedly looked at my bloody shirt.
It was dark purple, but I guess my wound wouldn't be hard to find if you knew what to look for.
I glared. “Have you never had one, Ezra? I can promise you they’re no big deal.”
“That’s such bullshit,” Kaiden growled and swerved into his apartment's parking lot. “I can feel the wound, princess. Right side, correct?” We parked, and he spun around to catch my gaze. “Once we get upstairs, take off that shirt, so I can see what we’re dealing with. And no more fucking lies. I swear you’re making it impossible not to give you that punishment you’ve practically begged for since I first met you.”
eighteen
Kaiden
I wasn’t gentle as I dragged her through the apartment and up the stairs to my room. I should have been. She was stabbed for fuck’s sake. A scratch my ass. The dull burning I felt in my own side was probably nothing compared to the pain she endured.
“You still haven’t told me how you knew where the scratch was.”
Her feet dug into the throw rug, and I stopped pulling long enough to turn and face her. I’d avoided looking before because I didn’t trust myself not to lose it, but we were way past that now. My shadows burst free without command to shade the room. Inky tendrils wound their way up her legs, and her little gasp was enough to set my blood on fire.
“My right side is sore,” I told her, my tone sharp. “So, I took an educated guess that that’s where your wound is.”
Sore was an understatement. The spot just above my hip wasthrobbing. I needed to see how bad it was, but my bond had other ideas. She wanted to argue. Arms crossed, shepouted in that determined but adorable way I usually found appealing. Right now, her attitude made me want to spank that ass until she couldn’t walk. Maybe this time I’d actually do it.
I blew out a steady breath. Health first, punishment second.
“That’s a bit more than just feeling my emotions, wouldn’t you say?”
There was a new undercurrent of fear leaking down the bond that had nothing to do with the most recent djinn attack. The subject of our growing bond was always a touchy one, but there was no time to comfort her about it. Gods help us if that knife was poisoned with more nightshade. I directed my shadows higher, until they wrapped around her hips and chest, leaving a gap where her wound was.
“Pain is a heightened emotion,” I explained on my way to the ensuite. My shadows ensured she followed, despite her futile attempts to resist them. “Stop fighting me and get your ass in here.”
Seconds later, she stood before me, and I didn’t bother asking permission. My fingers curled under the edge of her soaked tank top and pulled it off in one solid motion. Ignoring her scowl, I gently gripped her hips and lifted her onto the counter, putting her breasts right in my face. It was an effort to ignore them and keep her gaze. Her penchant for wearing lacy little scraps over her chest would be the death of me.
“Don’t move.”
Her brow creased, but she listened as I knelt and rummaged through the cabinets beneath her. Bandages, tape, clean dressings, sterile water; it all went onto the counter. Next, I pulled some purified blue clay, ginger, raw honey, and ground cat’s claw. She would need a poultice—likely more than one round.
At the last minute, I grabbed a sterile pack of stitches and tucked them between the supplies in the basket before shecould see. I hoped I wouldn’t need them, but the amount of blood on her shirt was enough for me to worry.
“What are you going to do?” Eryn’s worried question bounced off the walls of the small room.
I remained where I was, knelt between her legs so that her wound was eye level. Gifted a front-row seat to her rapid breaths and stunning body, I regretted that the first time I had her like this wasn’t under different circumstances.
“Whatever needs to be done.” I left no room for argument and splashed some of the sterile water onto a thick slice of gauze. “Hold still.”
