Page 40 of Mutant Mine

“So hot,” she says, then winces. But it is not too personal a comment — she need not feel embarrassed.

“Yes,” I say. “I do run hotter than the average human.”

“Right,” Rory says, “Yes.” Then she settles down to her task.

She is impressively focused. Her gaze is locked on my wound, and not once does she look away.

The med kit is small but well equipped. Once Rory has cleaned and disinfected the wound, she begins sticking the edges back together with strips of instant stitches. It is fiddly work, and takes her several minutes. She is being very careful and thorough, trying to seal the wound completely.

“That is plenty,” I say after a while. “You really do not need to trouble yourself. I heal quickly. This injury would take months for you to recover from, but for me, it will take days.”

“But fornowit hurts?” Rory asks.

“…Yes,” I admit. “It hurts.”

“Well then,” she says, as if that closes the matter. She applies a cool spritz of numbing gel, picks up another strip of stitches, and gets to work.

22

Rory

WHAT DOESit say about me, that I find fixing Roth’s wound so therapeutic? This ought to be a gross task, purple leaking out all over my fingers — but his blood being that color makes it seem fake, like Halloween makeup.

Wiping away the ooze, pulling the tattered edges of his skin together with instant stitches, and covering it all over with clean, white bandages… This is methodical work. It demands such focus that my hands forget to shake.

Once I’ve finished, it looks much better. The iron-rich smell of blood is gone, replaced with the chemical sting of disinfectant. There’s something else in the air too: sugar and smoke, sweet and soothing. I breathe it steadily, in and out.

“There,” I say, sitting back to admire my own handiwork. “All done.”

Roth pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks at his clean, covered wound.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do.”

It really was, even if he didn’t seem to think he needed it. I kinda suspect he only humored me because he knew I needed to dosomething.

Now that I’m not concentrating on a task anymore, I become more aware of our position on the bed. Roth is still undressed to the waist. I can feel the heat radiating from hisskin.

I get up quickly.

“Um… Do you…” I start, with no clue how I’m going to end the sentence.

Roth climbs up from the bed and starts pulling his clothes back on. The jumpsuit and undershirt are stained with a mix of red and purple.

“…Do you want a clean uniform?” I ask.

He looks down at himself.

“Yes,” he says. “That is a good idea.”

He’s as cool and collected as ever. Thank god he hasn’t noticed how flustered his proximity makesme. When I first came back from the bathroom to see him shirtless on the bed, my skin went hot all over. The way he looked up at me…

The flush of attraction was nothing new. I’ve been attracted to Roth since I first saw him — although I’ve been trying so hard to ignore it. At first, it was just the physicality of him that hit me like a sledgehammer. Now it’s something else.

Since we got back to the safety of our room, he’s been so careful to position himself below me: making himself seem smaller (a difficult feat for someone so huge), and allowing me to feel in control. When I was patching up his wound, he was so still beneath my hands — so careful not to let me feel his strength.

Roth fetches a clean uniform from the wardrobe, then turns back towards me and clears his throat.

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