Page 62 of The Hunter
I didn’t have the capacity to unpack this right now, not with the room spinning, my stomach churning violently. I tried to push it down, but it was impossible.
“Bucket,” I rasped. “Quick.”
She left the needle lodged in my flesh, rushing to grab the waste basket. She shoved it into my hands just in time. I retched into it, my body folding over, pain slamming through my ribs and skull with every heave. She rubbed my back, her touch light and soothing.
When it passed, I slumped back against the cushions and closed my eyes, cold sweat clinging to my skin.
“I haven’t thrown up this much since the weekend before boot camp.”
“Navy, correct?” she asked, returning her attention to the wound on my forehead.
I gave a subtle nod. “How’d you know?”
“I noticed your SEAL tattoo.”
“When you were checking me out?” I attempted to waggle my brows, but was only met with pain.
“No. When you were showing off.”
“Showing off?”
“Exactly.” She moved the needle through my skin again, then examined her work. “What do I do now?”
“Loop the needle through the thread twice to close it up, like you would if sewing a button.”
I expected her to tell me she’d never sewn a button, considering she had an army of people who could do that for her. Instead, she managed to follow my instructions exactly.
When she finished, she pressed a clean bandage to my forehead. Her fingers lingered. Too soft. Too warm. Too close.
“Do you want something for the pain?” she asked, rummaging through the bottles of pain killers. “There’s some really good stuff in here.”
I shook my head, but quickly realized my mistake. The world tilted sharply left, the throbbing becoming even worse. I hissed out a breath. “I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself,” she muttered, packing up the supplies.
“Thanks for patching me up,” I murmured. My eyes were already closing. “Be careful driving down the mountain in this weather. It can be a bit slick. Just take it slow, especially around the curves.”
She didn’t respond. Just kept cleaning up. I heard her retreat and head toward the hallway closet. When she returned, she lifted my legs, shifting my body so I lay on the couch. Then she covered me with a soft blanket.
“Sorry things worked out this way,” I mumbled. I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. “I didn’t have a choice. I just…” I tried to figure out some way to explain, but nothing made sense, my brain fighting against me. “It doesn’t matter. Drive safe.”
I felt her hand run over my face, from my forehead, along my check, down my jawline. I sighed, melting into her comforting touch, sleep pulling me further and further away.
“I think I would have liked you if circumstances were different,” I heard her say, unsure if it was real or my imagination.
“I think I would have liked you, too,” I mumbled.
Then the darkness pulled me under.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ariana
I watched him breathe. Slow. Shallow. Steady.
But I knew better than to relax.
I’d endured my fair share of concussions, courtesy of Victor. I remembered every excruciating second. The nausea. The disorientation. The pressure in my skull like someone was slowly squeezing a vice. The way light cut like glass. The way sound made me want to scream. The way my own body felt like a stranger.
