Page 52 of Rough Riding Orc Cowboy

Sheshouldbe angry.

But she only stared at me, her cheeks flushed, her lips quivering. She looked like she wasn’t sure if she should speak or say absolutely nothing at all.

That was me.Ishould be saying absolutely nothing at all.

I tightened my hands so hard, the nails bit into my palms. It wasn’t easy, but I forced myself to breathe normally.

“I’m sorry,” I growled, disentangling myself from the blankets and rising to a crouch, backing away from her until I ran into the side of the tent. “I didn’t mean to—” My throat dried out. “I was just checking for— for injuries and?—”

Her lips twitched. “Ruugar.” Her sweet voice croaked, but it was the pleading in her eyes that made me go still.

“Beth. I was so worried.”

“You saved me,” she said simply. “I’m fine.” Her tears were gone.

“Are you going to die?” I asked.

“What?” Her breath caught. “No! No. Not at all.” She held up her arm. “I scratched myself on a branch. The crumble didn’t come near me.”

“Good. Very good.” Now I felt foolish. “I’ll be right back.” My voice came out rough, and I forced myself to meet her eyes before tearing mine away. I bolted from the tent, sprinting past the fire pit where Pete and Carol sat with their backs to me, talking, and across the clearing, to the supply shed.

I wrenched the door open and seized the first aid kit from the shelf, then wet a clean cloth at our water supply. The run back felt slower, my pulse pounding louder than my footsteps. When I ducked into the tent again, Beth was watching the entrance like she’d been waiting for me.

I crouched beside her, setting the small kit down carefully, noting that she’d shrugged off the sleeping bag. At least she wasn’t cold any longer. I’d heard of humans going into shock. That might be what was happening to Beth.

Although, she’d said it was just a scratch.

Maybe she was being brave, and she truly was horribly injured. She didn’t want to worry me. Or shedidn’t think I’d be able to do anything to help. I’d soon prove that wrong.

My fingers shouldn’t be capable of gentleness, but they would learn because of her.Forher. Taking the wet cloth, I carefully stroked it across her wound.

She hissed, flinching but not wrenching away. Every muscle in me locked, my jaw tightening. I didn't like to see her hurt. I hated it. Worse, I hated that it was my fault she was like this in the first place.

“Sorry.” The word scraped up my throat.

She shook her head. “It only stings a little. It’s fine.”

Fine? It was anything but. Blood had no right being on her skin.

I refocused, taking more care this time as I blotted at the wound, clearing away the worst of the blood. Once it was clean, I reached for the kit and opened the top, removing a bandage I gently wrapped around her forearm, snug but not too tight. My thick fingers fumbled only once as I taped the end in place. I sat back to study my handiwork, grateful I'd attended one of my Dungar's instructions that covered not only first aid but basic human interaction, something that all of us needed. I should've paid more attention to the latter and then I'd know what to say in a situation like this.

I stilled, unsure what to do now. Like a fool tempting the fates, my hand lingered too long, my thumb pressing against the place where her pulse beat under fragile skin. If I moved, if I let go, would she withdraw completely? Then this tiny moment would slip from my grasp as quickly as it had come. I had no right to touch her, butfates help me, now that I had, I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. I wanted to stay like this forever.

A slow breath escaped me, and I forced myself to sit back on my heels. “Are you sure you’re not injured somewhere else? You can tell me. I have a mighty stomach.”

She frowned. “Mighty…?”

“Mighty…stomach. It’s a human saying.” Which she would know, her being human.

She blinked before her expression cleared. “You mean a strong stomach?”

“How can a stomach be strong? It’s not a muscle.” Was it?

“It’s a saying. Strong stomach means it doesn’t get upset easily. Usually people say that when they’re talking about blood or vomit.”

“You’re not going to vomit are you?”

Her expression went solemn. “Not so far. And no, I’m not injured anywhere else. Only my dignity. I fell back on my ass.” Her lips quivered up into a fragile smile. “I was afraid the mother chumble was going to attack me, but she was more worried about her babies than me.”

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