Page 61 of The Hunter
“If you want to see me naked, you could just ask, princess.”
That earned me a pointed glare.
I let her work, because I didn’t have the energy to stop her. My head throbbed with every heartbeat, like someone was jackhammering my brain.
She peeled off my wet jacket and boots, tossing them aside before tugging off my socks and jeans, leaving me in just my boxer briefs and t-shirt. Her touch was careful but firm, her focus razor-sharp as she dipped a cloth in warm water and dabbed at the open wound on my forehead.
I flinched, sucking in a breath. “You’ve got some bedside manner, you know that?”
“If you didn’t live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, you’d be able to go to the damn hospital. Right now, I’m all you have. As my kindergarten teacher always said… ‘You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.’”
“Pretty sure they were referring to sharing toys,” I hissed.
“The concept is the same.” She continued examining the wound, despite the obvious pain it caused me. “This is going to need stitches. I really think I should take you to?—”
“There’s a medical kit in the hallway closet. Top shelf by the guns.”
“Of course it is,” she muttered as she rose to her feet.
She disappeared down the hall, her absence dragging cold air behind her. I closed my eyes, hoping the spinning would ease. It didn’t.
She returned with the kit and dropped beside me, sorting through its contents until she found the needle and thread.
“Is this what you need?” She held them up.
I nodded. “You’re going to have to do it.”
“Me?” Her eyes went wide in surprise. “I’m not sure I?—”
“I’d handle it myself, but there are currently three of you, and I’m not confident I’d stitch the right wound.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never done anything remotely like this before.”
“I’ll walk you through it.” I tried to smile through the pain and nausea. “Then you can take the Jeep and get out of here.”
Her gaze flicked to mine. “You keep saying that. Do youwantme to leave?”
“I actually quite like having you here,” I said quietly, my gaze locking with hers. “And that’s saying something, because I’m used to being alone.”
For the first time since I hit my head, everything stopped moving and came into focus. I had no idea why I admitted that to her. At least I could blame it on my head injury later. But I couldn’t deny the truth. Ididlike having her here. She brought life into this place of horrific memories.
“I can understand that… Preferring your own company to others.” She averted her gaze as she threaded the needle with shaky hands.
“What are you talking about? You thrive off social events,” I scoffed, trying not to wince as she began the first suture, although I welcomed the distraction.
Not from the pain, though there was nothing pleasant about being stabbed repeatedly in the forehead by an amateur. But from the soft brush of her fingertips against my skin. The heat of her body so close to mine. The scent of her — clean, sweet, maddening.
“No. Isurvivesocial events.” She didn’t look up. “I meant what I told you the night we met.”
“Because you have it so bad living on Star Island?” I bit back another groan as the needle pierced my skin again.
“Even a gilded cage is still a cage.”
A cage? What the hell was she talking about?
I’d seen how she lived. Saw her happily take the position of queen of the other socialites on Star Island. She enjoyed every second of it. Enjoyed being the center of attention. Craved it.
At least, I thought she did. Was it all an act? Why?
