"You're hurt bad," she says.
"I've had worse," I grunt as I sit down, pressing my back against the stone wall.
She kneels beside me, opening the first aid kit.
I try to shove her hand away out of instinct.
She grabs my wrist.
"Please, Dimitri," she says. "You saved me. Let me at least patch you up. Then we're even."
Her hand's shaking. But her grip's steady.
I meet her eyes.
This is the first genuine moment I've felt with her. No lies. No games. Just her. Just me.
Two people in the dark, trying to survive.
I let out a slow breath.
"We'll see about even," I say.
But I don't argue. I let her help me.
Because for some fucked-up reason, I want her hands on me.
15
ATHENA
I'm kneeling beside him as I search through the first aid kit, its contents spilling onto the stone floor.
I glance up at him, trying to act like I'm looking for the perfect thing to treat his wounds, but in all honesty, I have no fucking idea.
All I can think about right now is how in the hell is he still alive after that? There were like five men beating him, and now he's just sitting here, bloodied, staring at me with those blue eyes.
I tear open some bandages and gauze and rip open some antiseptic packets. I know I'll need that. My hands aren't steady and I can barely breathe, but I force myself to move.
I'll start with that deep gash above his eyebrow. I dab it gently a few times, scared I'm going to cause him more pain. As the blood soaks the cotton, I'm surprised at the relief that washes over me when I realize most of the blood isn't his and the cut isn't as bad as it appeared.
"Okay," I say, tossing aside the bloody cotton, "this is going to hurt."
I press an alcohol-soaked gauze against the wound.
Dimitri winces. "Son of a bitch!"
I pull back quickly. "What? Shit, did I hurt you?"
He starts laughing and shakes his head no.
"Asshole."
"Oh, come on."
"No, it's just. I..." I trail off, overwhelmed.
Dimitri slides his hand up and squeezes my thigh. "You're doing fine, Athena."