Page 76 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“But you got it from the base, didn’t you? You took it with you.”

He nods.“Yes, but I took it so I could come back with it. It’s not as if we have any stops on the way where I could buy some.”

His logic is…odd. I do not understand it. But of course, as long as he gives me more donuts—they are more precious than gold in this world—I am satisfied with nonsensical explanations.

“Thank you, Mine. That is very nice of you.”

He finally smiles. He places his palm atop my head and ruffles my hair.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

I’m about to chastise him for ruining my perfect updo when two cars and an ambulance surround us.

“Glad to see you made it back, Vitry,” a male dressed in a military uniform decorated with a myriad of medals exclaims when he sees Mine. “How’s the crew?”

At the same time, another male pokes his head out of the plane’s trap door.

“Are you done, Vitry? Can I come out? It’s getting hot in here!”

“Shut up, Holloway!” Mine shouts.

“Why can’t he come out?” the male asks with a frown.

“It’s nothing,” Mine grumbles.

“Tell me you at least got a kiss,” the male peeking from the plane continues.

“Shut the fuck up, Holloway, or I’ll kill you with my own hands,” Mine retorts, flustered.

I stare at him. I did not realize he had such violent inclinations. Then again, he did kill that male a few days ago—with his bare hands.

My eyes are drawn to his hands.

He has big hands. But that is quite normal. He is a big male too. Big and strong. His muscles are well-defined and quite nice to look at, if I do say so myself. Not that Iwantto notice that, but I couldn’tnotnotice it when he took his shirt off the other night. I don’t even want to think about his abdominals. I know quite a few deities who would kill to have his body.

But back to his hands.

I’ve never known hands can be interesting. They’re just…hands. But his are. Very, very interesting. A few veins protrude, giving him perfect proportions. There are also old scars and blisters on his palms. He is a male whouseshis hands.

“Nurse?” the male in uniform asks me.

“Huh?”

“You should check on the wounded.”

I blink. “There is someone wounded?”

Mine rolls his eyes.

“It’s Holloway,” he says with a sigh. “His ears are ringing from when we took one of the hits. I’m sure he’s better seen by a doctor, not a nurse.”

Now, wait a minute. Is he implying I am not capable of looking after a patient? Of course I’ve never treated someone for ear ringing, but there is a first for everything.

I turn to glare at him and open my mouth to argue. But before I can say anything, he continues.

“Besides, I have a small injury that needs taking care of myself. The nurse was kind enough to offer to look at it.”

I’m confused.

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