Page 48 of Sweet Touch of Venom

Scorching heat slaps me in the face as I replay how ridiculous I must’ve looked falling down. Humiliation consumes, I’m so damn embarrassed.

I don’t glance back, so I don’t notice Ronan on my ass like white on rice as he makes way to his truck. The trunk pops up and I open the passenger door. The light shudders on, reflecting off on to my gash, and my eyes bulge.

Balls.

Crimson fills my entire palm, with a darker spot in the middle. I suck in another breath to ease the panic that wants to fester. Liquid continues to leak down; I refuse to get into his truck. I don’t want to stain it with drips of blood.

Ronan’s door swings open, and I gaze up to see a look of concern before it switches quickly to agitation. He holds a first aid kit in his hand and hops in, slamming the door back.

He looks over at my seat and glides up to me. “What are you doing?”

I hold up my hand, gesturing my head to my hand. “I’ll get blood in your car.”

Expecting him to agree and tell me to wait, but instead, he does the opposite. His face morphs into full on anger, his eyes widening. “I don’t give a shit about this truck. GET IN.”

Chapter 18

Ronan

Fancy a bit of blood

Anita tosses her binoculars into the truck before slipping into the seat, shutting the door, and keeping her hand raised to control the bleeding.

It’s not helping.

I sigh heavily as I nearly tear open the first aid kit. Does she think I care more about getting drops of blood in my car than making sure she’s okay? Am I giving off this impression?

Maybe she is just being considerate, but I don’t know why that makes me upset. All I know is it irks me the wrong way, and I’m even more bothered she hurt herself.

I push the thought away and lightly grip her wrist. It’s dainty and small, which makes me want to handle her like a glass doll. I clicked the light above us to get a brighter view. My stomach twists into knots. I like blood, but coming from her inthisway, apparently not. Yes, I just had my knife to her eye, but I wasn’t going to actually stab it.

My body becomes rigid, but I continue assessing the damage. “I’ll need to clear the blood to see how bad it is.” My tone is clipped—my agitation is evident.

“I can do it myself,” she says, attempting to snatch her hand away, but my hold is strong.

“Don’t move before you hurt yourself some more,” I snap.

She scoffs lightly, glancing the other way.

I really am upset. It’s triggering me seeing her this way. It’s bringing back unwanted memories from Carter, from my mother when they left her bleeding to death, and I couldn’t do shit about it.

Now here she is. Bleeding profusely and the difference is I can help her, but it doesn’t take away the anguish in my chest at seeing her hurt. It’s a pain you can’t control, the inner turmoil you get because you can’t take away every element and constituent on this damn planet. But I swear if I could, I would destroy every fucking rock and sedimentary segment, so this doesn’t happen again.

I use my one hand to hold hers upright while I dig into the kit quite roughly as I look for a large swab to wipe away the blood. I pull one out and tear it open with my teeth.

“You’re not going to put on the gloves?”

“What? Do you have any diseases and infections I don’t know about?” I ask as I swab the threaded cloth over the area, avoiding the cut.

“No. I just figured you wouldn’t want blood on you.”

“I'm not concerned about that. My only worry is making sure you’re okay,” I grit, narrowing my eyes to ensure I don’t graze the wound.

She stays quiet after that, and I’m fine with it because it infuriates me that she cares more about other things than herself.

My jaw tightens into a stiff grip as I near the end of the cleaning.

“Why are you so upset?” she asks in an undertone.

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