Page 19 of He is… Creed: Part Two

I’m only marginally stunned at the idea that he can now hear through a door, considering all that I have seen these past two years, and far too pleased at his jealousy to be healthy for either of us, especially him in his current wounded state.

“Don’t do that right now,” I whisper. “You’re bleeding too much. We have to stop it. We need fresh towels.” I push to my feet and he catches my hand, turning me back to him. “Addie…”

There’s pain in his voice, and not the kind that wound caused. Everything inside me reacts and it’s a confusing rush of emotions and thoughts; the need to wipe away his pain, the need to believe we matter beyond some forced bond, the fear of losing someone I told myself I never wanted to see again. Or so I pretended. “We have to stop the bleeding.”

“I’ll heel.”

“Not if a bullet is in there—”

“There is.”

“Then you know we have to get it out,” I say, being his voice of reason, something a GTECH doesn’t often need to possess. “Let me get the towels.” He hesitates, resistance in every existence and I’m not having it. “Creed, damn it,” I hiss. “Don’t be stupid. You might not be human, but you can still die.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Will you? Is that always certain?”

“Mostly.”

“Damn it,” I repeat, “don’t ‘mostly’ me while you sit there and bleed out. Put pressure on the wound while I get you fresh towels.”

He grits his teeth and releases me. I’m already running to the bathroom, scooping up every towel, my heart drumming at the wall of my chest. I return to the bedroom to find him lying on his back and I don’t hesitate to join him. I kick off my shoes and my knees hit the mattress. I’m pressed to his side, positioning myself for access to the wound. And the intimacy of the moment hidden beneath the urgency driving it feels as if it might be the last time, and it’s terrifying.

I grab the soaked towel and toss it, pressing a fresh one to his side.

“Why don’t you have on Zodius body armor?” I demand, not sure how I stop the bleeding and get his shirt off to see the wound properly. I don’t give him time to answer. “You’re not invincible no matter what you think. You might heal quickly, but you can bleed to death just like the rest of us.”

He offers me a heavy-lidded pained stare. “I thought that might make you happy.”

“Stop it,” I chide. “You know that’s not true. You can feel it. I know you can because I knew you were injured and weak before I ever came into this room. I have to get your shirt off to see the damage.” I straddle him, arching forward to hold the towel in place in an act that mimics sex. “Don’t say a word.”

His mouth quirks, but there’s a white line above his lip and his skin is ashen. “If I have to die, I want you right there when I do.”

“You’re not going to die. You heal, remember?” I use one free hand and start rolling his shirt upward.

“I got it,” he says, and with a grimace and a groan he pulls it over his head, the act forcing the towel from my hand, and allowing blood to gush.

With anxious hands I replace the towel and the pressure, but not without noting that he is, indeed wearing the state of the art second skin armor Julian’s team created, and my father is dying to get his hands on. It’s supposed to be impermeable to bullets. “Why didn’t it work?”

“Clearly there’s a new weapon in this war,” he replies. “Whatever they hit me with wasn’t standard issue ammo. I need to get it out of me. Cut the suit open. I’ll never get it off.”

“Are you sure it’s still in you?”

“Believe me,” he bites out, strain etching his handsome features and then surprises me by shackling my arm and pulling me on top of him, essentially molding me to his long, hard body. “The sick fuck would fuck you and kill you after. Get the bullet out so I can kill him.”

“Let me go before you hurt yourself,” I protest, his heartbeat slows beneath my palm and I use my position and literally flatten my body to his and slide to his side, to apply pressure. He’s acting irrationally, worried about the wrong things.

“You could have been killed out there tonight,” he growls.

“But I wasn’t,” I reply. “And I needed to follow him. I needed to know who I could trust.”

“Because you don’t trust me,” he challenges, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. “I did what I did that day at Area 51 to protect innocent lives, yours included.”

I catch his face and force him to look at me. “Stop this now. Please. I beg of you. We need Caleb. We need him to send the Renegades doctor. Casey, right? That’s his name? We need him.”

“Not an option,” he breathes out. “He’s on a mission. Hard to—reach.” He glances down at me. “I told you. You have to do it.” His hand literally falls away from me as if he cannot control his own body and I’m instantly on my knees beside him.

“I have no supplies,” I say. “Do you only have one GTECH doctor?”

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