Page 19 of The Prodigal

“I find the pattern soothing,” I lie.

“I’m sure you do.” A dainty laugh slips out of her mouth. If she weren’t the enemy, I’d find it sexy—cute even. But I don’t because Eden Da Luca is nothing but a means to an end.

“Try not to mouth off to anyone else while I’m asleep—I hate pretending to care first thing in the morning.” Leaving the sheets out of principle, I turn and head for the door.

“No way. You’re taking these—ow!”

I turn around on instinct and find her cradling one hand while streaks of blood ooze between her fingers.

Fuck. I groan, seeing her face scrunch up in pain. “Let me see.”

She waves me off. “It’s fine. I’m sure I have a bandage in my purse.”

“You don’t.” My words come out more annoyed than concerned, which shouldn’t matter since her response is just as aggravated.

“That’s right. You know what’s in my purse because you went through it like a psycho.”

Since we’re playing tit for tat and all that while she bleeds out… “And you ate my fries like a psycho.”

“That’s not nearly as crazy as going through someone’s purse!”

I really do not have time to deal with her ridiculous rationale. “Give me your hand.”

“No.”

Fuck it. I tried. “Fine. Enjoy your evening.”

“Wait.” She sighs. “Do I really not have a bandage in my purse?”

I fight back a grin. “Just expired mints and a tampon.”

Her lips purse. “You have one, don’t you? I’m betting the son of a surgeon always has a Band-Aid handy.”

She’s not wrong, but it’s not the reason I have one in my room. “I see someone has been googling.”

Pink spreads across her cheeks. “I get bored sometimes.”

Not bored enough. If she knew what I do about her family, she would have plenty to google. But now is not the time to disclose that little tidbit of knowledge. I need something from Eden first.

“I can see that.” I sigh heavily, like the fact that she googled my family is annoying, but really, I expected nothing less. Eden Da Luca is all but predictable. “You can always seek professional help,” I add. “I hear doctors and hospitals have been known to have antiseptic and bandages.”

She bows her head, clasping her hands in her lap. “I can’t. I don’t have insurance or the money to pay a hefty bill.” She sighs. “Besides, I hate hospitals.”

Fuck.

I might be a cold-hearted bastard, but a woman hurting is one thing I’ve never been able to tolerate.

“Leave the sheets and come with me,” I bark. I don’t wait to see if she follows as I stalk down the sidewalk to my room. I don’t have to. I hear her heavy footsteps and panting before she catches up with me at the door.

This is a bad idea—the worst, actually.

But I’m not known for making good decisions. So, without thinking about the repercussions, I slide the key into the lock and motion her forward. “After you.”

Eden

Idon’t move.

I’ve watched far too many crime shows to just walk into a stranger’s motel room without asking the pertinent questions. “Promise you’re not gonna chain me to the toilet and chop me into pieces on the next full moon?”

---