Page 22 of Fangs
“What is that?”
All the lightheartedness had evaporated from his voice, and my lungs seized. I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened. Before I could react, he reached out with his free hand and shifted my shirt. I braced myself, but he just stared, a muscle in his jaw flexing. He dropped his hand, easily undoing another button one-handed, and pulled my shirt open more, revealing the entire hideous mark while I sat there, frozen.
“What is this?” he demanded in a low voice, meeting my eyes again.
I couldn’t answer, my heart thundering in my chest. He studied me with his sharp eyes, his hand still locked around my wrist. He looked back at the scar, and I flinched when his fingertips traced the rough, raised skin.
“Is this a ’J’?”
A wave of dizziness washed over me.
“Did Madame do this to you?”
“Please.” The word bubbled out of me.
He quieted and studied my face, his jaw clenched tight.
“Don’t tell him,” I begged in a whisper.
His eyebrows rose, and his voice was full of disbelief as he replied, “What?”
“Please, Lee.” I couldn’t explain better, but the thought of Wolf seeing the brand made me feel sick. I didn’t want him to see just how broken and ruined I was. He would have questions, just like Lee, just like Trey, and I couldn’t tell him about all the horrible things I’d experienced or all the awful things I’d done to other people.
“There’s no way in fuck I’m keeping this a secret from my best friend about his little sister.”
I closed my eyes in defeat and dread, shivering hard. He sighed heavily and pulled me back into his lap. I went stiff as a board against his chest as he wrapped the blanket tightly around both of us again.
“How the fuck did you survive in that river?” he muttered, and I realized his fingertips were drifting across my ribs, slowly tracing them over my shirt. “You’ve got no fat on your bones.”
I tipped my head forward so my hair fell across my face like a curtain, hiding behind it.
“Wolf better bring Sable,” he continued. “I need him to stitch up my leg before I lose it as you so kindly predicted.”
That caught my attention. I didn’t remember saying anything about his leg. I didn’t remember he was injured at all. I bit my lip as my power fluttered—weak but alive. My brain felt like it was full of thick mud, but I knew one thing for sure: I couldn’t heal him because Wolf couldnotknow about my power.
My fingertips tingled.What if he was really hurt?
I can’t.
What if I just checked? I could check. He wouldn’t even know. My fingertips found a slice of bare skin between his pants and his shirt. He jumped when I touched him but simply muttered something about cold hands.
I tried to focus on letting a tiny bit of my power out, the thinnest little thread that flowed down to his leg. I closed my eyes, and I couldseeit in my mind. The long laceration in his shin was deep and still bleeding. It needed stitches, but more urgently, my powers flared around where an infection was taking root.
Fuck.
There was no running water in this cave—no way to clean the wound like it needed.
I can’t.
It might even need to be packed.
I can’t.
I’d seen people lose limbs to infection. I’d sawed through bone myself on two separate occasions. It was horrible.
He’ll tell Wolf.
It’s what Trey would’ve done.
