Page 34 of Blood

Callan tucks a finger beneath my chin, turning my head toward him. “She’s right. You’re a King now.”

CHAPTER13

THE DEVIL IS CALLING

My head is a mess, my thoughts are too turbulent, and there’s so much to unpack, but all I feel is relief. None of them died. We left a shit show at Ray’s, and that might come back to bite us in the ass, but for right now we’re all breathing. A knock comes from the door, and Diamond opens it a second later.

“Doc’s here.”

“Bring him in,” Callan tells her.

“Talk to me,” an older guy enters, going straight over to Cutter. It dawns on me that I don’t even know Cutter’s real name. “Who worked on him?”

“Me.” I raise a hand, forgetting where I am and who we are. This is a biker club not a hospital and I’m a freaking vet not a doctor.

“The bullet?” he asks, feeling around the wound with the pads of his fingers.

“Still inside. Didn’t make sense to remove it.”

We wait while he checks Cutter over. My nerves chew their way through my guts.

“You did a good job. Med student?” the doctor asks, lifting the eyelids and flashing a light into Cutter’s eyes.

I drop my head and exhale, my muscles loosening. “No. Veterinarian school.”

He pauses and looks over at me, a web of age lines crinkling his features. “I’m impressed. Very tidy.”

Kitty’s smile is megawatt as she reaches out to squeeze my hand. “He needs fluids and antibiotics.” I say, shoving my free hand into my jean pocket, the adrenaline waning, exhaustion taking its place.

“I’ll give him that. Why don’t you go clean up?” His eyes run over my clothing, and I follow their path to see my outfit ruined by blood. I thought Callan looked bad, but my jeans are consumed by the crimson aftermath. The gravity of what I’ve done soaks into me, settling in my chest.

“Come on.” Callan grips my arm and wraps a hand around my back. Walking through the clubhouse, I don’t feel like I’m in my own body. An ocean of brothers await us in the main room. Expectant eyes track us to the center of the room.

“Cutter is going to be okay,” Callan announces. Relieved sighs hiss through the air.

“It’s good Rogue was there tonight. Not only did she prove her loyalty and fearless badassery but she saved Cutter’s motherfucking life!” Kitty booms, swiping a tear from her eye. Cheers shake the foundations of the clubhouse. The walls close in. The noise becomes a blurring sound, getting farther away.

“Rogue?”

In the next heartbeat, I’m in Callan’s arms in a bridal hold.

Ironic.

Once we’re away from the noise, air fills my lungs once more. If they knew who I really am, would I still be the hero or another enemy for them to slay?

“Let me help you out of these clothes.”

We’re in a bedroom. A king-sized bed dominates the space, centered against a black accent wall. The duvet, pillows, and drapes are all black. Metal cabinets line another wall, like a school locker room.

I raise my arms without thought as Callan lifts my shirt, peeling it from my body. The drying blood has stiffened the material and the crimson stains have soaked through, streaking my skin. My arms come up to cover my breasts. When his fingers hook into my jeans, I gasp and step away.

“I’m sorry.” Callan frowns, watching me. He scratches the back of his neck and turns to face the wall, offering me his back. “I was just going to help you into the shower.”

“No.” Heat flushes my face. Walking up to his back, I curl myself around him, my arms circling his waist and resting over his pecs. “I know you’re just trying to help. I’m a little out of it.”

“What you did for Cutter…it’s a big deal, and it won’t be forgotten.” His voice rumbles through his chest, vibrating against my cheek.

“I was so scared when that man pointed the shotgun at you.” My hold tightens as I inhale his scent, my eyes squeezing shut.

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