Page 31 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

Unacceptable.

The soldier surprises me, however, when he takes off what’s left of his shirt and places it on the ground next to him and motions for me to sit on it. He’s left only in his undershirt, which exposes his muscular form. His arms are bare, strong, and well-defined. The light fabric molds to his chest, emphasizing his pectoral muscles too.

I look away.

This is not proper.

Taking a seat on his shirt, I make sure to keep my gaze forward so I don’t see more than I need to.

I clear my throat.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask.

He rummages through the pockets of his pants and removes a silver flask. After pulling the cap off, he takes a big swig before offering it to me.

My lashes flutter in confusion.

“What is this?” I wrinkle my nose as I take the flask and smell the contents. It’s strong and pungent.

“Whiskey,” he answers tersely.

I’ve heard of whiskey. It’s a type of alcohol humans love to drink, although I’ve heard that this, too, is rationed.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“To take the edge off,” he answers.

I frown again. “What edge?”

He tilts his head to the side, not understanding my question.

“Just take a swig.”

I stare at the flask. I’m not one to turn down a challenge, and I might be a little curious about this so-called whiskey and why everyone is so enamored by it.

The moment the liquid goes down my throat, I feel a sudden burn and choke.

“No, thank you. I will pass,” I say in disgust and hand him back the flask.

He shrugs and takes another swig.

“You should use that on your hands,” I point out. Alcohol is good for injuries in this world.

“And waste good whiskey?” He chuckles, then takes another drink.

I stare at him in shock. Is the whiskey more important than an infection?

Without a word, I snatch the flask for him. Shaking it, I gauge that it’s only half full.

I can tell he’s about to protest, but when he reaches for the flask, I forcibly grab his hand, turn it palm up, and pour some of the alcohol on his wounds.

He hisses in pain.

“Give me your other hand,” I order him, and he surprisingly complies.

I empty the rest of the flask on his left hand.

Then I still.

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