Page 178 of Claimed by the Ghost Warrior

I had suspected that already. By the time I got him to sit down long enough for me to clean the cut along his ribs properly, I was certain.

“Hold still,” I said.

“I am holding still.”

“You are literally trying to stand.”

“I need to check the rear access.”

“You checked it four minutes ago.”

“Conditions change.”

I looked up at him. He looked back at me, and neither of us blinked. The bandage strip in my hand had adhered itself to one of my fingers somewhere during the argument, and neither of us mentioned that, either.

“Sit.”

The muscle beneath his eye gave a single, sharp twitch. Then, with all the enthusiasm of a male accepting a prison sentence, he lowered himself back onto the edge of the bed.

Progress.

The room we had rented this time was smaller than the others. One sleeping space. One narrow table. One window overlooking the side of the storage building. The machinery below sent a faint vibration through the floor every few seconds.

Veyr had already checked every panel, lock, ventilation shaft, and structural seam.

Twice.

Apparently the building had passed whatever private inspection existed inside his head.

I stood between his knees with the medical kit open beside me.

That was probably why neither of us had spoken much for the past several minutes.

Too close.

And after Darev’s little explanation about possible mate recognition, pretending proximity meant nothing had become harder than before.

I refused to think about that. Instead, I focused on the cut.