Page 191 of Savage Hearts
She blinks rapidly, looking confused and a little frightened, as if maybe she imagined it altogether, so I hurry to reassure her that she didn’t.
“It was an elk.”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. She rolls her eyes.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
Why the hell does it have to be so adorable when she sasses me? It’s not enough that I feel protective of her, I have to actuallyenjoyit when she’s disrespectful? If it were anybody else, they’d already have a bullet in their skull!
But it’s not anybody else. It’s Riley Rose. The only person in the world who makes me feel things.
My voice unintentionally gruff because there’s a rock in my throat, I say, “I took it down.”
She considers that with her head cocked to one side. “You took the elk head off the wall after I went to sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I could be headed into a minefield, but I tell her the truth anyway. I don’t know when it happened, but lying to her is no longer a possibility. “Because you didn’t like it.”
Blinking, she lifts her brows and says archly, “So in addition to being able to walk through walls, you can read minds.”
“No, but I can read faces. Yours is unusually expressive.”
Like it is now, for instance, with the color rising in her cheeks and panic shining in her eyes. She’s worried how much she’s given away already.
She should be. Because I know she wants me. If I were another sort of man, I’d already have taken her, injured or not.
I cross to her, pull the covers off her legs, and pick her up in my arms. She weighs virtually nothing, which makes me deeply uneasy.
I need to feed her. I need to make sure she’s eating enough so she can get her strength back. Why haven’t I forced her to eat more?
She distracts me from being angry with myself by saying, “I’m supposed to be walking.”
As if I’d let you.“You will be. Let’s get you clean first.”
I carry her into the bathroom and set her on her feet. When I tug at the hem of the nightgown she’s wearing, she jerks back so hard, she loses her balance.
“Whoa! What’re you doing?”
I grip her upper arm to steady her and keep my voice gentle because it’s obvious she’s horrified at the thought of me seeing her naked. “You’re feeling shy. There’s no need to be. I’ve already seen all of you there is to see, inside and out.”
She stares at me in open-mouthed shock.
Looks like an explanation is in order.
“I stood at the head of your bed when they opened your stomach to get the bullet and your damaged organs out. I gave you sponge baths while you were drugged. I changed your clothes, changed your bedsheets, and helped the nurse change your catheter when it gotplugged. There isn’t an inch of your body I’m not already familiar with.”
Her face is white. She might actually pass out.
She closes her eyes and whispers, “Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”
“You’re not dreaming.”
“This has to be a dream. There’s no universe in which this can possibly be real.”
I need to take care of her, and she’s not letting me. Impatience makes my tone sharper than I intended. “Don’t be dramatic. Bodies are just meat.”
