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Chapter

Thirty-Two

OLEANDER BRIGHTMORE

The door slammed against the wall as Oleander rushed into Wisteria’s old room. His hand went to the lavender handkerchief in his pocket, his fingers tracing the embroidery frantically.

“So, you’re kidnapping her now? What happened to tricking her into being your friend?”

“Calm down.” Wisteria gave him an amused look. “She’s just cleaning up.”

“What were you even doing out at Thistle Cottage? I thought we were forbidden from going there after nightfall.”

“Well, that wreckage belongs to me now,” she said archly. “I’ll go there whenever the fuck I want.”

Oleander sighed. “I just meant, isn’t it unsafe?”

She snorted, crossing her arms defensively. “I was still deciding if I would go inside, when your idiotic friend ran in like somebody begging to get murdered. You should be glaring at her.” She turned towards the bathroom. “Peri dear, have you got any clothes on?”

The silence stretched for a moment before Peri broke it, her voice cautious and laced with apprehension. “Why do you want to know?”

“You have a visitor.” Wisteria raised her eyebrows at him. “An overly infatuated suitor.”

He glared at his sister, trying to invoke fury... instead he felt heat rush to his cheeks. “I’m not interested in her like that. We’re just…” Friends? Confidants? Companions? “...project partners.”

At that moment Perine stepped out of the bathroom, a thick blue towel wrapped tightly around her. She was wearing the ring he’d given her to disguise herself. Her brown skin and starlight curls were smattered with dried golden blood. Her expression was pensive, almost… hurt? He wondered what Wisteria could have said to her to have her so upset, clutching the towel tighter around herself.

“Your blood?” Oleander’s chest rose and fell slowly as he looked her over.

“Most of it isn’t, no.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

“Good.” Without another word, Oleander pulled her gently into the bathroom, away from his sister’s overly observant eyes.

Inside the bathroom, Oleander ran the tips of his fingers along the sides of her face as he carefully inspected her for any injuries. His fingers moved slowly down her throat, tipping her head to the side, checking for even the mildest wound.

He pulled out a healing poultice he kept in his pocket, opening the small jar and dipping two fingers into it. It smelled strongly of fresh cut roses and the combination of that mixed with blood made him rather nauseous. He ignored that feeling, however, choosing instead to focus on brushing the cream to even the mildest cut.

She was so close to him that he could hear her breathing grow a touch shallow. He frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.” He smoothed the cream gently over a cut on her throat and her breath hitched.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no. I’m—it’s good.”

When he was satisfied that he’d tended to every laceration on her face and upper body, his hands continued to move down her arms.

Perine shivered under his touch, and his hand stilled.

“Are you cold?”

A deep flush rose to her cheeks as she gave a strangled laugh. “I guess a little!”

He set the poultice on a nearby counter. “I’ll let you check the rest of your body.

Then, he paused as something caught his eye. He leaned closer, his voice soft and curious. “You have tiny bite marks here on your throat.”

Her fingertips brushed against his as she instinctively raised her hands to her throat, searching for the marks. “Yeah, I’m not sure exactly what that little bite did but it saved me from a pretty precarious situation.”