Page 19 of Gunner

She takes one step away from the door into the pouring rain. “Stop!” I bark. She freezes, looking around for danger. She’s not afraid, just cautious, dropping down like she’s going into ass kicking mode.

If I had more energy, I’d find that so hot.

She straightens when she’s sure it’s just us here and pads over. The grass squishes under her toes soundlessly. The gold flecks are bright in her eyes as they look me up and down. She bends, about to touch me, but I rock back. The motion sends nasty black spots reeling in front of my eyes, blocking her sweet face out entirely.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she sighs, managing to sound more annoyed than afraid. “It’s the middle of the night. If you didn’t want me to come out and help you, then why are you here?”

I needed to be. I need you. I want… I just want you. Just an ounce of kindness.

The words are unspoken.

I don’t want Archer’s clinical hands on my body. Don’t want him fixing me. I didn’t want the clubhouse or any of my brothers. It’s been days and I just wanted to be here, I needed it more than I need to breathe.

Which might not be for all that much longer given how much blood I’m losing and how cold I am.

Her fingers brush along my jaw. “I think you need to come inside.”

“Please don’t,” I beg her, trying to shake her off. I get more black spots and a wicked twist of nausea for my effort.

“Don’t what? Touch you?”

“Yes. Don’t. You’re too… you’re pure. You’re an angel. I’m filth. A demon. A man with no soul. And… I’m sick. You shouldn’t be this close.”

“So you just wanted to stand out here, bleeding, in the pouring rain, while you’re ill, staring at my house while I was obviously already asleep?”

The teasing disbelief brings me back to a moment of coherence. I blink hard, clearing my vision.

“Dear god, you’re a stalker and a dumbass. You think I’m an angel? That’s some heavy delusions.”

She sweeps her hand over my leather vest. Her light touch, warm through the rain, travels down my bare arm. Painful. Her touch is more than electric. It’s a brand, reaching down into my soul. My face is wet. Is it the rain or something else?

Her face is still the same when I get my eyes open again. I haven’t sullied her. My darkness didn’t leach into her immediately and choke out her light. I haven’t poisoned her.

She’s right. I am a dumbass. Why did I believe I had the supernatural power to do that?

“I don’t want to be your villain origin story.” There’s a good chance I’m getting beyond delusional now. I barely register saying the words. They sound like they’re coming from far away.

She laughs as she sticks her hand into my armpit and jerks me up. I have just enough strength to help her. She’s strong. She was used to this, in her last life. She knows exactly how to fix me. I think. She was a nurse and that probably didn’t extend to surgery. She might not have even been allowed to do sutures, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how.

We take one unsteady step together. I can’t feel it. The cold, the pain, my feet, my body. I feel nothing but the shocking heat of her touch. It can’t be that hot. Not really.

“You’re about twenty-six years too late.”

“For what?”

“Villainy. I’m well acquainted already.”

Is she only telling me that because she thinks I’m going to die? Or does she think it’s just a joke? She’s blowing her cover with me. Why? She should have slammed the door in my face. Her conscience would have prevented her from going back to bed. She could have just called an ambulance. Had someone else deal with her problem for her. Said some stranger stumbled into her yard, bleeding all over.

Instead, she takes me into her small back entrance. I make out the shapes of shoes neatly lined up. A rack of coats.

“You need to get warm.”

The bathroom is just off the kitchen. I know where I’m going. She snorts when she realizes that and shakes her head when she gets the light on.

She thrusts me into the little stall shower, clothes and all, I start protesting and try and pull off my cut. She gently eases it off and drapes it over the stool, then shoves me back in the stall and cranks the spray on. Not too hot. The water swirls brown from the mud on my boots and when that clears, a sickening pink. I throw my hand out against the wall to brace myself. She gives me lukewarm water first and then increases the heat.

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