“I need to make sure I get everything out of it, so lay back and keep still.” I nodded to his road rash and I could have sworn that he smirked behind his mask.
God, what I’d give to see his mouth.
Or his lips, which I already knew would be full and perfect.
Or his jaw, which I already knew would be strong and defined.
I ran my hand up his chest, feeling the raised scars beneath my fingertips. I dabbed at the road rash, cleaning everything out of it. His nipples hardened the more I scrubbed at him, like the pain was his aphrodisiac, and there was no mistaking the way his jeans had tightened. When I was done, I threaded a needle and leaned closer to his face.
“Keep still—this will hurt.” I held the needle in my right hand and his face gently rested against the palm of my left hand.
I stared into his eyes, his dark ones swallowing all the light from my golden ones. I’d been told I had eyes like a wolf, something I got from my mom, yet right then I didn’t feel like a wolf—like a predator. Under his scrutiny, his intensity burning between us like molten lava, I felt like the prey.
I leaned closer to him, the position uncomfortable but necessary, and then I pierced his skin, waiting for him to flinch or hiss in pain, but nothing. He was a solid rock, an unmovable mass. Nothing fazed him. Not when I pierced his skin. Not when fresh blood poured from the wound and I had to wipe it away. Not when the needle snagged on his skin and I had to snap the thread and pull it back out. Nothing.
When I was done, I sat back on my haunches, admiring my work. It was the first time I’d performed on an actual person, and I was proud of myself. It had been harder than I’d expected, but I was sure I’d done a good job and he’d only have a small scar.
“It’s done,” I said, still staring at him. Still waiting for him to say or do something.
I was sitting next to him, his body stretched out on the bed, the needle still in one hand while the other one was on his hard chest. I could feel the thump of his heart underneath my palm, and something about it calmed me.
“Does anywhere else hurt?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, though his eyes told a thousand stories. Stories of pain and love, anger and rage, of death and family, and so much more. I swallowed at the intensity and was scooting back from him when his hand reached out and latched on to my hip, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
I stared at him, and he stared at me, our gazes locked in a silent war. A war with ourselves, with each other, with the world that had put us in these opposing positions.
He slowly sat upright, his callused hand still holding on to my hip, and when he leaned in close, practically stealing the air from my lungs, I panicked, wondering what he planned to do now. Would he hit me? Kiss me? And which would be worse? Which would hurt more?
But instead, he grabbed the small mirror from the medical kit and held it up to his face, his gaze flitting between the mirror and me for several seconds.
“You’re good at this,” he finally grunted like I should be thankful of his approval. “Youshouldbe a nurse.”
I shrugged like it was no big deal, like his compliment didn’t do anything for me, when it in fact meant the world. “Whatever.”
“You gotta do what you want, Penny. You only live once.”
I frowned and looked down. “I don’t have a say in it.”
God, what was wrong with me? I was acting like such a girl. Such a victim. And why was he being like this with me? Acting like he actually gave a shit.
“Whatever, it doesn’t really matter,” I mumbled, and moved to put the kit away when he grabbed me by the shoulders forcing me to look at him.
“It does matter. Life’s too fucking short not to do what we love. What we’re good at.” He stared at me like he wanted to say more. Like he wanted to do more.
I frowned, wanting him to shut up now. He had no idea what it was like, how hard it was for someone like me. I didn’t get a choice in anything. Women in my family were owned by their daddies until they were married off, and then they were owned by their men. That was my life.
“You tried tellin’ him,” he continued.
I rolled my eyes. “Can you just drop it? It doesn’t even matter.”
He huffed out an annoyed breath and I shook my head.
“You’re acting so superior!” I snapped. “So you’re telling me that you’re doing what you love? That this is living the dream for you? Kidnapping women, torturing them? Killing people even? You’re just like me, taking orders and doing what needs to be done to survive,” I spat with a shake of my head.
He pushed me suddenly and I fell sideways, and then he was on me, straddling my body, trapping me beneath him and taking my breath away.
“You think I’ve been torturing you?” he sneered, his eyes filled with rage. “You ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what torture is, what I can do, what Iwilldo to you if you don’t shut your mouth.”
