Page 21 of Dating the Dealing Demon

Blood wells and spills over in droplets faster than I can move off him to grab the first aid kit. My scarlet red stands out in sharp contrast to his dark blue.

“Crap.” I reach for the kit but become twisted in his wings since his glamour chooses this exact moment to blink out again. Planting my palms against him to keep from toppling over, I watch his skin knit slowly beneath the smear of my blood.

What is happening?

My hair falls in my face, a mess I can’t see past.

Monty pushes against me in dragon form to help me balance.

“Thanks, buddy,” I tell him. “I can’t do this.” My confession relieves some of the pressure. I wish Rosemarie was here. My friend has worked in hospitals for years. She would know whatto do. Right now, I look less like a caretaker and more like Nurse Crazy. “Guess the best I can do is call for help. Maybe they’ll send someone who won’t try to kill me or make a demon deal with me.”

“Don’t call for anyone,” Theo says from beneath me.

He’s awake. Thank goodness. I don’t even care that he’s already bossing me around. “You’re hurt badly and still bleeding, and I don’t know what I’m doing?—”

“Give me time and help me drink healing potion.” When I move to get off him, he uses a wing to nudge me closer. “Just stay with me for now.”

I open the healing potion and tip it to his mouth, telling myself not to notice how full and kissable his lips are or the way his throat works as he swallows the dose in a single gulp. He grimaces as though it tastes awful. I guess human medicine and the magical kind share that at least. Spying the red and blue smudges I left on the glass, I pull away my bleeding palm, embarrassed at theewfactor. “Let me find some wipes and gauze. Maybe disinfectant, if I’m lucky.”

“No need.”

“There iseveryneed. I’m bleeding on you.”

“Which is working as fast or faster than the healing potion.”

“Gross, I’m not gonna think how very against modern science your insane idea of medicinallet’s bleed on each othermight be because, honestly, I can’t deal with theickfactor right now.”

“It seems I’ve misjudged the impact of mating magic.” He puts his hand on my back and wraps his wings closer which shouldn’t do anything for me—not with the whole kidnapping and locking me away kind of day we’ve had. But if I’m honest, I sink into his touch before remembering not to crush him. I can’t let this demon get any ideas about me giving in to whatever kinky fated mates fantasy he’s having.

“We arenotgetting freaky because you almost died.”

“It’ll take a lot more than my cousins hacking at me to kill me.”

His comment hits me in the gut. Here, I’d thought my family was the most dysfunctional ever with a reality television show, an obsession with fame, and their underhanded attempts to prove I more than lived up to the jinx nickname they stuck me with. But they’ve never caused me to bleed until I passed out. “Your family did this?”

“It’s always family. They’re…complicated.”

“Pfft, tell me about it.”

He slides my bleeding palm farther up his chest toward his shoulder, and if I’m not imagining it, his muscles go lax at the contact. “I thought you wanted me dead.”

“I wanted to kill you. That doesn’t mean I’m letting someone else do it. There’s a difference.”

“You healed me so you can kill me later?”

The asshole sounds like he’s serious with his question. I lift my head, fighting to catch his expression to see if he’s for real or if this is his attempt at teasing, but he’s holding me too tightly. “You would rather I’d left you to pass out on the floor in a pool of your own blood? Maybe I should have, but apparently, you’re my best shot at getting my friends back. Especially if you know where Ava is.”

“What a comfort.” His voice comes out in an almost growl that’s sarcasm laced with sexy.

“Look, I healed you with a potion or gross blood stuff or whatever so why don’t you lay off the boss-hole vibe, stop hugging me like I’m your personal ice pack, and let me treat my hand before infection sets in?”

“Your wound’s already closed,” he says.

“No way. The cut was too deep, and I didn’t take your magic brew.” I turn my hand over, and there goes my argument. Mypalm’s bloody, sure, but it looks as though I sliced it a few days ago, not a few minutes ago. “That’s impossible.”

He gives a rough chuckle that ends in a cough. “You’re with a demon and a soul guardian in a magical suite in a hell dimension that gave you a rocket launcher and you’re questioning what’s possible?”

I flex and stretch my fingers, but there’s no pain. It’s like the cut never happened. “Tell me how it healed.”

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