Page 23 of Rule the Night
Ugh.
The Barbarian who’d taken my gun was the only one in the holding room when we got there.
“Knew it,” he said as we filed into the room.
I had no idea what he meant, but my cheeks burned with the humiliation of the collar around my neck.
“How many left?” asked the dark-haired guy who’d saved me from the bird men.
“Two,” the Barbarian said.
Two girls still in the tunnel. Not gonna lie, that stung my pride. If I had to be caught, I’d hoped to be the last one standing.
The scary guy who’d caught me walked over to the Barbarian and they conversed in low tones.
“Let’s take a look at that hand,” the other dark-haired guy said, tipping his head at the first aid station.
“Not until you take off your mask.”
The blond laughed. “This one’s bossy. I like it.”
The dark-haired guy stared down at me. “You don’t make the rules.”
“Maybe not, but as far as I know I still have a say in who touches me.” I was testing the statement.
DidI still have a say in who touched me? How far would my servitude to these three monsters go?
He considered my question, then reached for his mask.
I swallowed hard when his face was revealed, not because he was scary or ugly but because he was so beautiful.
His skin was tan, his cheekbones and jaw sharp. He had an eyebrow piercing and a bunch of necklaces strung around his neck, and I homed in on the animal tooth strung onto one of the leather cords. It made me think of dark woods and wild things and I felt my blood quicken in my veins in a way that scared me more than anything else about my situation, which was saying a lot because my situation was pretty dire.
He stared down at me with dark blue eyes, his gaze appraising, like he was taking the measure of me too.
“Happy?” He continued without waiting for me to answer. “Now let’s get that cleaned up before it gets infected.”
I followed him over to the pathetic first aid station. He surprised me by bringing a metal chair from the other side of the room where the blond guy and the leader of their pack talked to the guy who’d frisked me upstairs.
“Sit.”
“I’m not a dog,” I said. But I sat anyway because honestly, I was exhausted.
I wasn’t the only one to make use of the first aid station. The supplies that had been neatly organized when the Hunt had started were now a jumbled mess. Clearly someone else — probably one of the other girls — had made use of the safe space.
I wondered how badly they’d been hurt, hoped they were okay.
My unexpected medic rummaged around in some of the supplies scattered across the table. He picked up a plastic bottle, crouched in front of me, and reached for my hand. Then he untied the scrap of my shirt and tossed it aside.
Electricity zinged through my body as his fingers closed around my wrist.
“This might hurt.”
I barely had time to register the words when he tipped the bottle upside down, squirting cold liquid onto my tender palm.
Pain tore through my hand. “Ow, dammit!”
“Sorry.” He sounded like he meant it. “It’s dirty in the tunnels. You’ll want to wash this when we get home.”
