Page 80 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“Minnie, what wound?” he repeats. His hands cover mine and he stops my erratic movements.

“You’re hurt. You’re dying. I must save you. I must, Mine,” I continue on a ragged breath.

My heart is beating loudly in my ears, so much so every other sound dims until the only thing that surrounds me is the deafening sound of my incompetence and the acrid taste of my own fear.

I shouldn’t even be attempting to save him when saving humans is what got me in trouble in the first place. If it is his fate to die in the next moments, then I should step back and let fate run its course.

Except I cannot stop myself.

For some strange reason, all sense has fled my body until this ineffable urgency is all that’s left behind.

“Minnie, what are you saying?”

“Show me where it hurts. I promise I’ll make it better,” I add as I swipe my hands all over his naked chest. His skin is smooth and warm, and a slight current of electricity travels from the surface of his skin to the tips of my fingers, making me startle. I swallow, finding it hard to concentrate.

But I must.

I must save him.

There are no injuries to his upper chest. No new ones at least. There are old scars that I cursorily note but cannot dwell on at this moment. Going lower, I glance again at the wound I’ve just bandaged, trying to think if I missed anything.

Was it infected? Was there something wrong with it that I did not notice?

It was quite deep, but I cleaned it properly. Even if I’m not the best nurse, I’m certain I did a proper job. Mine was watching me closely, too, and he would have said something if I messed up. Right…?

But if it’s not that wound either then…

There must be something else.

He said the seat belt had cut him when the plane had been hit. Maybe he has some injuries on his lower body.

Though I am nervous to do it, I grab onto the sides of his trousers and pull them down his hips.

“Minnie!” Mine calls my name—well, the namehedecided is now mine. “What are you doing?”

“You’re hurt,” I whisper. “There must be some other injury I can’t see. Does it hurt here?” I ask as I pat his thighs.

I’ve seen what those cockpits look like and how the seat belts cross over the thighs, too. Maybe he got cut there? There is arather important human artery in that region, although there is no bleeding that I can see.

My brows are knit together in confusion.

“What about here?” I press right under the wound I just bandaged. Maybe I missed something?

He whizzes and jerks against me. A shudder racks his body, his hips pushing involuntarily against my hand.

“Stop!” he exclaims. His hands are now firmly atop mine, holding me still. “Don’t move.”

“Are you in pain?” I ask, my worry getting the best of me.

Helooksin pain.

His features are tightly drawn together, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

He releases a ragged sigh as he leans further into the mattress. His chest rises and falls.

“I am not hurt,” he finally replies. “There is no other wound than the one you’ve tended to,” he explains, though he doesn’t allow me to move. His grip on my hands is strong. He keeps my palms on top of the exposed skin right under the bandaged wound.

Skin against skin.

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