Page 27 of Savage Reins
"You don't have to do this," he says quietly.
"Someone has to stop you from bleeding all over everything."
"That's not what I mean."
I know what he means. I'm choosing to be here, choosing to help him, choosing to care whether he lives or dies. The smart thing would be to walk away, let him tend his own wounds and face his own consequences.
But I can't. I won't.
"There," I say, tucking the end of the bandage into place. "Try not to get beaten up again before morning."
"I'll do my best."
I start to stand, but he catches my wrist. Not hard, not demanding—just enough pressure to make me pause. His thumb traces across my pulse point, and I know he can feel how fast my heart is racing.
"Mira."
"What?"
"Thank you."
The simple words shouldn't affect me the way they do, shouldn't make my chest tight and my breathing unsteady. But there's something in his voice—gratitude mixed with something deeper, more dangerous.
I know better than this. I know I should put distance between us before this goes somewhere we can't come back from. But his thumb is still moving against my wrist, and his eyes are dark in the lamplight, and I can't seem to make myself move.
"You scared me," I admit quietly.
"I'm still here."
"This time. What about next time?"
"There won't be?—"
"Don't." I press my free hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat under my palm. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
His hand covers mine, warm and callused and surprisingly gentle. "What do you want me to say?"
"Nothing. I don't want you to say anything."
But that's not true, and we both know it. I want him to say he'll be careful, want him to say this matters—that I matter. I want him to give me a reason to believe that caring about him won't destroy everything I've worked to save.
"You should rest," I say instead.
"Probably."
But neither of us moves. His hand is still covering mine, still holding my wrist. The space between us seems to shrink witheach breath, each heartbeat. I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, can see the faint scar that runs along his jaw.
"This is insane," I whisper.
"Yeah."
"You could destroy everything I care about."
"I know."
"So why do I fucking want you so?—"
He kisses me before I can finish the question. His mouth is warm and urgent against mine, and I taste copper from his split lip. I try to push him away and remember all the reasons this is wrong, but his hand tangles in my hair, and I melt into him instead.
