“Don’t feed me that bullshit. What’s wrong?”
She sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I fell asleep and rolled to my back. Let’s just say it hurt a darn lot.”
“Let me see.”
“I checked in the bathroom mirror. It’s not bleeding or anything, just uncomfortable to lie on. I’ll be fine.”
Týr cut her an even stare. “Come here, Kira.”
At his demand, she glowered at him for a second, then trudged over. Without a word, he pulled her down beside him and pushed up her nightshirt. She went impossibly rigid. Because he could see her underwear? Týr shook his head.
However, the crinkled gauze and creased tape covering her wounds made his jaw clench. “You changed the dressing, too.”
“It bled a little, okay,” she muttered, hunching over and sliding more to the edge of the couch as if ready to flee. “I can’t keep running to you for every ache or pain. I can take care of myself.”
He remained silent because if he spoke, he’d yell at her. She’d probably done more harm to her injuries, twisting to put on the damn gauze. Carefully, he peeled back the dressing. The lesions still appeared inflamed, but one continued to bleed. And she’d somehow lathered on more salve.
“Happy now?” she asked as he re-taped the gauze.
Týr didn’t answer. He gently caressed the edges of her dressing, reluctant to let her go.
The moment he stopped, she shot to her feet. He snagged her wrist, prepared for her bolting. She eyed him like a cornered deer, her chest heaving. “You can let go. I’m going back to bed.”
And give her a chance to erect those mile-high barriers between them again? “No.”
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, tension arcing between them.
Týr let her go and lowered to the couch to stretch out. It was a risk he took, leaving this up to her, but he wanted a chance at a life with this difficult and unpredictable female. More than anything, he wantedheryes.
“Lie beside me.”
