“I’m so sorry!”
His head turned slightly, voice a deep rumble. “Can I help you?”
“Erm…”
Xander twisted fully, his hand coming up to push his pale hair away from his face. Kyra immediately dropped her gaze to the floor tiles. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve already said that,” he replied.
“I was looking for a med kit, or maybe some bandages.”
“It’s in here somewhere,” he said, stepping out of the shower. “I’ll grab it.”
“I didn’t realise you would be in here,” she said. “You know, naked.”
“Naked, in the shower? Now that’s a surprise.” He reached for a towel, wrapping it low around his waist. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a prude. Don’t all black witches dance naked in the moonlight?”
Kyra’s eyes snapped to his, wondering if her face looked as bright as it burned. “Bandages?” she reminded him when he just stared.
Xander paused, brow raised before he stepped forward until they were toe to toe. A moment skipped by full of tension before he reached around, pulling out a small green plastic tin from somewhere by her side.
“You smell like blood,” he grunted in her ear. “Show me and I’ll wrap it.”
It took a second to understand his words, the embarrassment renewing. “I can do it.” She reached for the tin, but he quickly lifted his arm and pulled it out of reach.
“Where’s the wound?” he emphasised.
“Xander,” she croaked. “I can do it.”
He only lifted the tin higher.
“What are you, a child?”
Xander frowned, brows knitting together. He handed her the tin, a white cross painted across the top before walking out.
Kyra placed the medical kit onto the counter beside the sink, her head falling forward as she tried to relieve some of the stiffness from across her back and shoulders. She clamped her hands down on the counter, anchoring herself with the cool texture.
How did she get herself into that position? In the home of a man that hated her, a man she struggled to stay away from. He had always been clear about his feelings, yet she felt pulled by an invisible magnetism every time she saw him.
Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment,she thought to herself before she looked up at the mirror, the dark bags beneath her eyes heavy. The cut on her lip looked as well as it could, only slightly bruised with little to no swelling.
Frederick wanted her to be the perfect subordinate, not questioning his decisions as he used her for his dubious spellcasting. If she stayed she was confident she would become a shell of herself. But if she ran she risked worse.
Kyra let out a settled breath, lifting her skirt to check the cut through her black opaque tights. The fabric stuck to both the old and new blood, the tights intact apart from the ladder across her knee. The cut beneath looked nasty, wider than she remembered.
“Take off your skirt.”
Kyra jumped, having not heard Xander re-enter the bathroom. He wore a pair of jeans, the button undone to show the deep V of his hips.
No underwear,she thought.Great.
“You’re bleeding, so take off your skirt,” Xander repeated, opening the medical tin. When she remained exactly where she was he growled. “You want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”
“Excuse me?” she snapped.
Xander leaned forward. “You can either willingly take off your skirt, or I’ll rip it off. Your choice, Princess.”
Kyra glowered, but exhaustion beat heavily against her. “You’re an arsehole.”
