Page 93 of Wolf.e
I push everything out of my mind and focus as hard as I can on the X in the center of the target. I block Gabriel out. I adjust my grip, forcing the shake from my hands.
“Don’t think, Brin. Justshoot,” Gabriel says.
I breathe in. I think of all his words. He will not die by my hands today. I’ve got this. I’m strong. I’m his girl.
I breathe out as I pull the trigger.
“Fuck yes, baby.” I hear just before his body slams into mine. Gabriel picks me up and spins me around. I focus on the target that I hit just to the left of the X.
“A fucking bad ass,” he says as he kisses every part of my sweaty neck, my shoulders, my lips. “Mywicked girl…the things I’m going to do to you.” He smirks. “But first”—he kisses my lips—“looks like you’re also about to learn how to stitch a man up.”
Oh joy.
***
This day just keeps getting better and better.
“You don’t have anything to freeze it? Shouldn’t we call Rick?” I ask as Gabriel places the sterile needle in my hand.
He ignores my obvious stress. “It’s two stitches, you can do it. I’m sure you took sewing classes at some point?”
I make a face at him. “I did…with fabric not human skin,”
“There’s no difference if you don’t really think about it. This is the sterile side of the counter.” He points to an area he’s cleaned thoroughly. “This is the nonsterile side; you sit here, in the middle.” He hoists me up with one arm as I hold my freshly washed hands up like I’m going into surgery. This man is nuts I’m pretty sure, and yet here I am listening to him so I’m not sure what that makes me.
He grabs a pair of small forceps and places a needle between its teeth then grabs a lighter, holding the flame to the end, curving it slightly. I feel green thinking about piercing his skin with it.
I watch in awe as he lays everything out, cleaning a glass tumbler and then pouring some gin inside.
“Antiseptic.” He smirks, taking a sip. “In case your sewing skills are a little rusty.”
“Careful,” I warn him, trying to make light of what’s beforeme. “I’m the one with the needle.”
“Only because it’s my right arm, hummingbird,” he says, his brow furrowed. I know it takes a lot for him to trust anyone, to let me take control.
Gabriel pours iodine onto his arm and uses an alcohol-soaked cloth to wipe it clean, the flesh is loose and open and that’s where I come in.
“Two stitches max. Simple interrupted stitch,” he orders, approximating the edges of his wound.
I nod, because that I understand. He takes his latex glove off and places the needle in my hand from his sterile area.
“Fix me up, hummingbird, it’s all you.” With that, he turns and sits in front of me, placing his arm between my thighs, I start to feel my breath increase the same way it does when he chases me, but this time it’s for totally different reasons.
“Come on,” he coaxes. “Get out of your head, if I bleed out because you don’t stitch me it’ll be considered murder.” He grins, and I laugh because I’m pretty sure that was just a joke, something I never thought I’d hear from him.
I take a deep breath and focus, bringing my face down in concentration as I poke the needle through his skin, his jaw ticks but he says nothing as I eye him in horror.
What am I doing?I ask myself for the thousandth time since I met him.
He nods and I continue, poking it through the top of his wound this time but not without great effort.
“You have thick skin,” I tell him as he sits watching my every move, making me even more nervous. I use the small forceps to pull the needle all the way through fully, tying a square knot., Then repeat the process a second time.
“Don’t pull it too tight,” Gabriel says as I work.
“I think it needs three,” I tell him as I eye it up. He inspects the wound and nods, turning slightly to allow me better access to the top of his arm for my last stitch. His free hand begins to graze the inside of my thigh, I flinch.
“You’re distracting the seamstress,” I tell him with a smirk, not looking away from my task.
