Page 64 of If The Crown Fits
“Cai, take off your damn shirt or I swear I will strap you to that table and do it myself.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled, but I heard clothes being removed as I wrung out the piece of cloth.
Cai’s body was covered in cuts and bruises, from his face to below his ribs. There was one particularly bad cut on his ribs and another above his eyebrow.
“When did you get that?” I asked, referring to the one on his torso.
“One of the guards after Lance took you away.”
I bent down and placed my hand near the wound for better inspection. It looked painful and uncomfortable. Something tugged in my stomach at the thought of Lance’s guards beating Cai after Lance dragged me away. Cai had risked himself for me. My finger ran along the ridges of his defined stomach, and he suddenly sucked in a breath. The action cleared my mind and I pulled away from him, realising the intimacy of the gesture.
I pulled over a chair and began cleaning the cuts with the damp cloth. Cai winced, but didn’t say anything. I took some of the medicine and attempted to pour it over the worst of the cuts. Cai’s hands were wrapped around the edge of the table and his grip was so tight that it turned his knuckles snow-white. The strong muscles of his stomach contracted as if to pull away from my touch, but he didn’t make any attempt to stop me. I mumbled half an apology and stood up to work on the cuts on his face, since he was so much taller than me.
“You’re lucky your ribs don’t appear to be broken, but they are severely bruised, so I would suggest minimal movement for some time.”
“You seem to know a lot about this?”
“It’s not my first time.” And I didn’t care to elaborate. I had cleaned more wounds than I could count, and some scars... well, they never healed. I gently pressed my finger to his head,inspecting what I presumed was a hit from Lance’s fist with his golden ring on, the one with the royal seal. I had thought more than a few times about attempting to steal it, but it would have been worth nothing as everyone would know it was stolen and I wouldn’t easily be able to sell it. “It’s not too bad, but you’ll need some stitches,” I said as a matter of fact.
He nodded wordlessly and I tried my best to keep my hand as steady as possible as I pulled the needle and thread through his skin. I dabbed the cloth over it once more to clean off the dried blood.
“How’s your leg?” Cai asked as he stood up and pulled his shirt on again. My head spun a little and I pressed my palm flat on the table.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling.
“I thought you were a good liar.” I refused to meet his eyes until I felt Cai’s fingers grab my thigh and I yelped in pain as the world momentarily went black. My knees started to give and I grabbed for the edge of the table.
Cai cursed under his breath. “You’re bleeding through your clothes, Lara. Why didn’t you say anything?”
I watched the red slowly leak through the material of my dark skirt and sucked in a breath. The adrenaline from before had worn off completely and now the pain had set in.
“Lift up your skirt.”
“Excuse me?”
Cai carried a slight smirk now. “I’m just trying to help you.”
I scowled as he used my own words against me.
“If anyone is going to take care of my wound, it is going to be me,” I insisted.
“You’re hardly in the state.”
But I wasn’t going to agree with him. Before I knew it, he had his hands on my hips and had lifted me onto the table. Iprotested and pushed him away, but Cai wasn’t exactly a weak opponent.
“Lift up your skirt or I swear I will strap you to this table and do it myself.”
“Unbelievable.” But I had stopped fighting him.
“With all due respect, that’s very ironic coming from you.” He sat on the chair, still wincing slightly, and lifted my leg onto his lap, the other one still dangling. I pulled up the skirt to where the wound had been wrapped and held it there firmly.
Cai started to unwrap the torn piece of cloth and I clenched my teeth as some of the dried blood pulled on the skin. His hands were pleasantly warm, allowing heat to spread up my thigh that had nothing to do with the wound. He cleaned it with a cloth, same as I had done with his wounds, and poured on some ointment. It wasn’t so deep that it would prevent my movement, but it still hurt more than enough.
He picked up the needle and thread and I grabbed his wrist with my free hand. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“You need a few stitches.”
“Have you ever put in stitches before?”
