Page 77 of Reaper's Ruin
“You’re bleeding,” she said suddenly, her gaze dropping to my torn jacket. “Let me look at those wounds.”
“I’m fine,” I replied automatically. Eight centuries as a reaper had removed any concern for my own wellbeing.
“No, you’re not.” She reached for my jacket, her determination clear. “I’m a nursing student, remember? And in caseyou’veforgotten, we don’t know what happens if we get hurt too badly in this form.”
“Exactly.” I stared at her sternly. “Which is why you need to be more careful.”
“I didn’t run off. I wandered like—two hundred feet. Not even a full football field.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s—never mind.” She huffed and shoved a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re bleeding and you’re pissed because you were worried, and now you’re deflecting by yelling at me. Well, guess what. I’m done having this discussion. Keep your cranky ass comments about me running off to yourself.”
“I’m not... deflecting.” I stopped. My mouth flattened as I considered her words. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I’m deflecting a little because knowing you were in danger was... terrifying. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you.”
My shoulders tensed at my admission.
Her brows arched high, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face as those eyes probed deeper into mine. “Wait... what? You were terrified for me?”
Shit.
Too much. I’d said too much.
“No. Just... be more careful is all I meant. Don’t run off again.”
I hoped my short answer was enough to deflect her in a different way now. Seeing her in danger, thinking of her falling beneath that lethal creature, sent surges of pure terror through meunlike anything I’d ever felt. It did things to me, made me feel things for her I couldn’t, wouldn’t, name.
She’s your duty. Your responsibility. She is nothing more than a soul you need to help move on.
Her eyes stared into mine for a long moment, searching. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t press, wouldn’t dig into the little slip of my mouth letting her know just how much I felt for her now.
Thankfully, she didn’t, and instead, she lifted her chin. “I’m done arguing with you about whether I ran off or not. I didn’t. End of fight. Now let me look at those wounds.”
I started to protest again, but the stubborn set of her jaw told me resistance was futile. With a reluctant sigh, I began unfastening the buttons of my jacket, wincing as the fabric pulled away from places where blood had already begun to stick.
As I pulled the torn shirt off completely, Soraya’s eyes widened slightly. I watched her swallow hard as her gaze traveled across my bare chest, lingering on the defined muscles before focusing on the gashes left by the Voltmauler’s claws.
“These aren’t as deep as I feared, but they look painful,” she said, her voice suddenly professional as she leaned in to examine the wounds. “We need to clean them properly when we get back.”
“I’ve had worse,” I said dismissively, though in truth, I hadn’t felt physical pain in centuries. It was... unsettling.
“I don’t care if you once got stabbed by a hundred swords and walked it off,” she retorted. “Now that you’re in human form, you can get infections. Or bleed out. Or—”
“Almost die fighting a Voltmauler with my bare hands because the girl didn’t stay where the girl said she was going to stay?” I said dryly.
Her head snapped up, blue eyes narrowing dangerously. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
She shook her head, frustration evident in every line of her body. “Why do you have to be so—”
“Right?” I supplied.
“Impossible,” she finished. “You’re impossible. If you weren’t already dead, I would threaten to kill you, but alas, you’re eight hundred years dead and buried.”
Something about her exasperated expression cracked through my carefully maintained control. A sound escaped me—part snort, part chuckle—before I could stop it.
Soraya froze, her eyes growing comically wide. “Did you just... laugh?”
