Page 12 of Guarded By the Krampus

“Much better,” she said, reaching up to tug away her collar, letting her hair drop.

I stepped far enough back that I’d be safe if my dick broke its chain.

“Good night, Aceon,” she said, looking over her shoulder, and I was so stunned by the moment I almost forgot to ask?—

“Hey, before you go—where’s this jet’s med kit?” I didn’t want to use the supplies inside my duffle bag, in case I needed them later.

She turned around to gasp. “Why?” and then her jaw dropped in horror. “Ace—were you injured?”

I was pretty sure that was the first time she’d said my name. “No. Not really. I mean—it’s not bad, just annoying?—”

“What? Where?” she demanded, flying up the aisle.

I stepped back, because there was still a six inch no-go zone in front of me, where my hard on was pushing out my kilt.

“Just a small cut. I’m really looking for suture stuff, if you have any.”

She appeared aghast, and then pointed up to one of the latches above. “There should be a kit up there.”

“Great. Thanks,” I said, turning around quickly, to open the berth and pull it down. There was a red duffle bag with a little bit of everything in it. “I’ll keep track of what I use, so you can have them replace it,” I told her, pulling out some alcohol, gauze, and a flat pack of Ethilon sutures in gauges fit for monster hides, complete with a curved needle. “This is perfect,” I assured her, but that didn’t stop her from hovering.

“Let me help?”

Her concern was as embarrassing as it was charming. “Not to make you feel bad, but, how?”

I watched her bite her lower lip, as she offered her hand out. “I don’t know.”

“I’m fine,” I said, but I couldn’t resist the chance to take it. And when she stepped closer, I let her, bringing her hand to the blood-soaked fur by the cut on me. “See? It’s mostly dry now. I wouldn’t even suture it, if we weren’t going into action again—but I don’t want to start leaving behind DNA if I can help it.”

Her fingertips tamped against the slightly crusted fur, as she licked her lips. “And…you’re not worried about DNA from shedding?” she teased.

“Not anymore than you are,” I said, jerking my chin at her hair. “I mean—with your hair and all, you know?”

“I gathered,” she said, giving me a slight smile. “Still though. Before you close yourself up—you should get clean.”

I didn’t disagree—although I wasn’t looking forward to pouring alcohol over a cut on my body.

“There’s a shower in my bathroom, in the back. You should use it.”

I recoiled. “I couldn’t,” I said, as her hands patted me down, sending bolts of electricity through me every place they touched—until she found my hand and pulled.

“You can.”

“No—I’lldefinitelyshed in there. And your cleaners will not be prepared for it.”

Her brows furrowed and she gave a loud snort. “Do you know how many extensions I’ve had in my hair before? Trust me—they’re used to it,” she said, still pulling.

I planted my hooves, letting her hand tug at mine, just to test her resolve. She didn’t let go.

So I did what any other self-respecting bodyguard would do—I followed orders.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When Satin got into the back bedroom, she turned the lights on—although I wondered why, if she couldn’t see—and then she went to the bed to take off her heels, after gesturing for me. “The bathroom’s in there,” she said, gesturing to the back, and I went forward to peek in.

The bathroom was just as nice as the rest of her plane—with marble and chrome—and it was bigger than mine, in my monster-sized apartment.

I looked back into her bedroom, and saw her puttering around—her bedroom was all black velvet, and black silk. Soft things for her to touch, I figured—and I went for the door to separate the two rooms, and found it didn’t have one.

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