She didn’t care that she sounded ferocious and bloodthirsty. She wanted them dead for hurting him.
“Eve,” he murmured, gently touching her face. “I'm fine. And no, they aren’t dead. I don’t want them on us right now, and that’s guaranteed if I kill one. Let’s go inside. They’ve disappeared, but they could send reinforcements.”
Eve’s anger deflated when she thought of what was at risk. Not only could Reynner die in this fight but his entire realm was under threat, too. From what Aerén had said, the Darkreans would do anything to rule Empyrea.
“Do they think we have the Stone? Are they looking to steal it?”
Ice flowed into his eyes. “Right now, it’s you they want.”
That stumped her…for a second. “Well, I’m not that easy to get to, not with you here.”
A wry smile chasing away his grimness, he ushered her back into the studio. “Glad to know you trust me.”
With her safety? Absolutely. But with her heart? Eve didn’t dare.
She fetched the first-aid kit from the sink cupboard in the corner of the studio. Turning, she found Reynner had his t-shirt bunched up in one hand, revealing his tanned abs while he examined the wound on his chest. The urge to run her fingers over those sculpted muscles had her tightening her hold on the box. She crossed the room and set the kit on the table.
He tugged his tee down. “Eve, I don’t need tending to, I’ll be fine.”
“Well, I’m not. So remove the shirt, or…” She eyed him. He was far too tall, and since she couldn’t very well climb up him to yank it off, she threatened, “Or I’ll cut it off.”
He arched a brow, amusement lighting his gaze. But he did as she wanted and lowered himself onto the stool. She took out gauze and disinfectant from the box and paused. Darn, she hadn’t thought this through. She’d have to stand between his parted thighs, be close to him.
Fix him up and step back, Eve,she told herself.This can’t go anywhere.
Right. Concentrating on cleaning the long gash across his right pec helped. As she worked, the bleeding eased. Eve didn’t comment since he probably had quick-healing abilities, too. She tossed the soiled gauze on the table, far too aware of the jittery sensation spiraling through her. And touching his warm, naked skin didn’t help matters.
His hands settled on her hips. “You always seem to be patching me up.”
She gave him a quick look. Her breath caught at the intensity of his dark stare. She forgot her question. Need unfurled low in her belly.
“You’re hurt…I want to help.”
Focus, Eve, or you’ll only land in a hard place from where there’s no turning back.Except with a broken heart.
Focusing back on her task as if her very life depended on it, she reached for the antiseptic ointment, squirted some on her finger, and applied it to the wound. But the burn-like tattoo on his left pec drew her gaze. She counted eight points to the star. On impulse, she traced the edges with a finger—
He grabbed her wrist. His expression violent, grip painful. “Don’t.”
Shocked. Eve wrenched her hand free and stumbled back. He pushed to his feet. “I don’t like you touching it.”
It?He meanthim.“Yes, you made that very clear.” Her movements jerky, she scooped the things back into the first-aid box.
“It’s not what you think—”
“There’s no need for explanations.”
Cursing, Reynner thumped the table with open palms, making everything on it jolt.
Mouth tight, Eve snapped the lid shut and stopped, a memory seeped into her of him chained in that hellhole dungeon, and that demoness clawing his wounds, doing those horrific things to him…
It’s why he didn’t like being touched.
Her stomach dipped, her hurt and anger fading. She wanted to go to and wrap her arms around him, take away those ugly memories.
“Your client’s here,” Reynner muttered, the lines of his face rigid.
She’d almost forgotten about her appointment.
