Page 63 of Goblins Don't Count
“He seems to think so.” I linked my arm with his as we walked out, and felt a wave of exhaustion that had me leaning against him a little too heavily.
“You poured a lot of healing magic into me. You should probably sleep for a few days after that,” he murmured.
I looked up at him, smiling. “Did it work? Are you really better?”
“Absolutely. I am better than I was before the bomb. Would you mind if I looked at your shoulder while we were in the car? I brought a first aid kit.”
“I’d love that. I’m a little nervous about it. Goblin bombs are notorious, what with shrapnel and itch dust. While it’s probably fine, I’d appreciate a second pair of eyes.”
He flashed me a sharp smile and opened the back door, gesturing me to get inside. I did, and found more equipment than I expected crowded into the back of the large limo. He followed me and then immediately was tugging on my jacket. I let him pull it off, then smiled because it felt like when I’d pulled off his. Was he still reciprocating? I had treated him while he was unconscious. That’s probably what all of this was about. He was so polite, though. So civilized. It made me wonder what was underneath that polished veneer.
“Your bandage seeped onto your blouse,” he murmured, but there was an edge to his words.
I glanced over to try and see the damage. He was right about the formerly white fabric now brown and crusty. “It seemed like a good bandage. I must not have put it on properly.”
“Or your wound is more serious than you thought.” He brought out his claws, sliced through my blouse, then ripped off the bandage.
I inhaled sharply as the stuck-on bandage yanked on my already severed nerves. He grabbed the base of my skull and pulled me down on his lap so I was staring at the leather seat while he grabbed supplies and started working over my injury. It was a shockingly intimate position, so close to him, so vulnerable, giving a goblin my back. Of course, he could have killed me at any time. He was my protector. I relaxed while he poked and prodded. His hands were gentle for being so strong.
“You didn’t have my sister look at it?” he asked, still tense.
“Is she a great healer?”
“No, but if she saw that there was a problem, she would take care of it one way or another. The most reasonable being to take you back to my house.”
“She calls it a vault. She was so proud of herself for breaking me out.”
“I’m sure she was.” His words were a growl, clearly losing the civilized manners by the moment. Did that mean my wound was horrible, or did he just not like me being hurt? He really took his protector role seriously.
I smiled against his leg. “Well, her nickname is Trata. I called you Sashimi in front of her. Is that disrespectful? If so, I’ll try to remember in the future to call you Corcarn.”
“You owe me no respect.” His words were hard, terse.
“I can’t date someone I don’t respect.” I hissed as pain shot deep through my shoulder. “Are you almost done back there?”
“No. You have some dust that’s spread an infection beneath the skin. It makes me think that perhaps our next date should be less exciting.”
“You mean the one after this, or this one?”
“Both. All future dates should be less exciting than the last one. If I’m unconscious, I can’t stop you from pouring your healing energy into me, I can’t stop my sister from hacking my vault, and I can’t make certain that you are safe.”
I laughed, even though I was in quite a lot of pain. “You call it a vault too. Where is all the priceless art?”
“For goblins, the greatest art is weaponry. I didn’t show you that room.”
“Ah. Maybe next time. I feel like my taser was somehow insignificant compared to the demon.”
“I will take great pleasure in arming you. Also in having less exciting dates. The combination of less risk and more weaponry is positively delightful.” He licked me as if to emphasize his point. What was he doing? I mean, I knew what he was doing, but why? He kept licking my shoulder over the wound, but after the first shock, it didn’t hurt but instead grew more and more numb.
“Your tongue is numbing me?”
He stopped and then spread some oozy stuff over my wound. “Yes. Also killing every possible infection. It’s not very civilized, but I already ripped your shirt.”
I gurgled a laugh. From that position, with his firm leg under my cheek, civilized was not the word. “That’s true. I’ll have to reciprocate. Also with the licking. You have no idea what you’ve started.”
“You started by writing me a letter.”
Back to that. That’s right. This was all a carefully calculated plan to preserve his heart and soul from the curse of love. How depressing. I sighed heavily, then sat up, because this was getting weird. “Thank you for reminding me. You can bandage me from this position.”
