Page 70 of My Vigilante Valentine

In fact, it was a little like she’d stumbled into a museum and found a masterpiece she wasn’t prepared to see.

Okay. I’d take that.

“Oh. Wow. Yep.” She blinked rapidly, her hands visibly tightening on the first aid kit. “That’s... a lot of muscles. Like, unfairly a lot. Do you... do you flex in the mirror just for fun? Because if I looked like that, I totally would. Not that I’m picturing you flexing or anything like that. I’m just used to seeing you in more clothes. Which you’re not wearing now.Obviously.”

Her rambling was adorable, and despite the literal pain in my side, I had to fight back a smile.

The way her cheeks flushed as she realized what she was saying, how her eyes darted between my face and my chest like she couldn’t decide which was the safer option—it was exactly the kind of bedlam I’d come to expect from Luna Wilde. Even in this desperate situation.

And I loved it.

Even better? Not a single word of that had anything to do with my scars.

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore how her obvious appreciation made me feel. “Focus, Menace. Bleeding out here.”

“Nope, you willnotdo that, Jax Thorne.” She grabbed an antiseptic wipe, her fingers trembling slightly.

I could do this myself. I’d done it before—more times than I cared to count. But something about letting her do it anyway—about watching hercare—made me feel…

I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

Didn’t matter.

She dabbed at the wound with the gentlest touch I’d ever felt, biting her lip in concentration.

“Like this?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, just like that,” I said, andwow, my voice should not have sounded like that.

I needed to focus. I was losing too much blood, and she was flustered and distracting and entirely too close.

After a minute, she reached for the gauze.

“Hang on,” I said, deciding this part Iwoulddo myself. I grabbed the suture kit from the box. “I need stitches.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “Wait, what? Youjust happento have sutures in your first aid kit? What kind ofpsychopathare you?”

I smirked, despite everything. “The prepared kind.”

“Jax, no—you’re not serious.”

“Completely serious.” I threaded the needle, ignoring the panicked little noise she.

“This is actually the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” she whispered.

I bit down, starting the first stitch.

I didn’t even flinch.

Meanwhile, she flinched enough for both of us. “You’re actually doing this? Like, right now? To yourself?”

“Yes, Luna.”

She covered her face with both hands. “I can’t watch.”

“You’re not even the one getting stitched up.” I continued with my task, and for once, I was grateful for how distracting she could be.

“For real, though. Do normal people just sew themselves together?”

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