Page 49 of Bully

He scoffed and looked over his shoulder at the piece of lead. “Care to close me up before I lose any more vital heart lube?”

Rolling my eyes, I dropped the bullet onto the coffee table and looked back into the bag of sadistic tricks to find the suture kit he was talking about, but saw something else that looked faster.

“Got it.” I replied, eyeing him up as I poured the alcohol into his wound and wiped away the excess. Tamen was mansplaining to me how to stitch up the wound, like I didn’t take sewing in eighth grade Home Economics class; I even won first place for my quilt pillow that semester. So, as he spoke, I nodded my head and gave the occasional ‘Yep, got it’ to keep him calm.

“Make sure the stitches are close and tight, but not too tight. The wound needs to be able to breathe—”

The deafening click of the staple gun cut him off as I started closing his wound as aggressively as possible for all the emotional turmoil he had put me through in the last thirty minutes. “Yep, got it.” I reassured cheerily.

His growl sounded animalistic, and I smiled bigger as I went. “You.”Staple.“Fucking.”Staple,“Cunt.”Staple, staple, staple.

Let’s be clear, the last two were frivolous additions, completely unnecessary to closing the wound. But by the time I was done, I feltwaybetter.

“All done.” I slapped his back and rose to my feet as he glared daggers at me from his prone position. “Tight, but not too tight. Just like Raven.”

“You’re insane.” He glared at me over his shoulder and then pushed himself up onto his ass again. “Clinically committable.”

“I was normal before I met you!” I pointed the stapler at his face and the intrusive thoughts almost won out, leaving him with an extra staple in his forehead, but I dropped it back into the bag before I could tempt that monster anymore. Crossing my arms over my chest, I grimaced as his blood started to crust between my fingers and on the front of my dress. “I might still hurl.”

“Come on,” He stood up, swaying on his feet and leaning into me heavily before walking us both toward his bedroom. “You can help me get cleaned up.”

“I’m not helping you with anything.” I snapped, irritated all over again at the entire situation. “Not until you give me some answers.”

“Answers.” He hummed, walking slowly and falling into the wall until I had no choice but to wrap my arms around his slim waist and help support him as we went. “The sky is blue because of reflections off the oceans. The dung beetle does, in fact, eat dung. And no, Olivia doesn’t really like you. She just hates me so much she’s willing to pretend.”

I paused and glared at him, contemplating dropping him on the floor completely. “Take that back.”

He groaned as we started walking into his bathroom and he sighed dramatically, “Fine, I don’t know if she likes you or not. But she doesreallyhate me.”

“Because you hit her sister with a car.” I deadpanned, remembering what the girls said that first night.

“Meh,” He shrugged, leaning on the stone shower wall as he reached in and turned it on. “Probably has more to do with the fact that I kidnapped her and stood by as a mad doctor tried to cut Rory out of her stomach to sell her. But that’s just speculation.”

I dropped my arms from him, and he fell forward into the stone, glaring at me. “You did not.”

“Did.” He shrugged, and then half grimaced, half winked at me as he pushed his boxers down, revealing the cock that I had dreamed about non-stop. Forcing myself to look away, he smirked at me and stepped backwards into the hot spray, sighing. “But in my defense, I didn’t know she was Peyton’s sister. I never would have allowed anything to happen to P’s sister.”

I scoffed, flapping my arms out at my sides, at a complete loss. “We’ll come back to that later, but I want answers to what the fuck happened to you. Who shot you?”

“Join me and I’ll tell you.” He countered, placing one hand against the wall and staring at me. It was hard to look at him, still covered in blood and grime, while he simultaneously tried to seduce me in his weird way that kind of worked.

“I don’t understand you.” I stated plainly, feeling vulnerable by even admitting that.

He apparently felt more vulnerable by that statement, because he responded with a jab. “Even the most educated shrinks don’t understand me, Rainbow. I wouldn’t expect a hooker to figure me out.”

I hated that it hurt.

I hated that at some point, I had allowed him the power to say things to me that hurt.

So instead of joining him in the game where we lob insults and digs back and forth for fun, I turned and walked away.

“Wait!” He called after me and I paused right outside of the bathroom door. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.” I replied, because we both knew the truth.

“I’m cranky.” He admitted, sounding tired. “Blood loss has a way of doing that to a man. Even one as invincible as me.” Turning, I chanced a look back at him, noting how weak and tired he looked standing there in the large shower, calling for me. “Please stay.”

“Why?” I asked, opening myself up for yet another insult, but hoping for something more, anyway.

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