Page 59 of Marked

I hate that I’m disappointed that he didn’t praise me. I clear my throat and find my footing again. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

He lets out a frustrated huff and drops his hand from my face. “I want to. Don’t you understand that by now?”

My head tilts, and I curse as it makes my vision swim. I reach out to steady myself and Jack’s hand finds mine. I close my eyes tightly, trying to get the room to stop spinning. “Why?” I grit out.

“You looked like you needed an anchor,” he responds, going to release my hand, but I wrap my fingers around his.

“No, Jack,” I start. “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? Am I like a wounded animal you feel you have to take pity on?”

“This pity party isn’t like you, Valkyrie,” Jack says, but when I look up, I see a small smirk tilting up the corner of his lips. “I have no explanation for you. I told you it’s not something I feel the need to do for just anyone. Something about you calls to me. It has since I met you.”

I mull over his words and blink, trying to focus on which of the two is the real Jack. “Because we’re both from the underworld?”

He shrugs. “Possibly, but does it really matter? I like how I feel when I’m with you.” His voice drops an octave. “And when I’m inside you.”

My toes curl and I nudge his stomach with the leg still in his lap. “Don’t use your sexual prowess against me right now. My head hurts too much for that.”

His face becomes serious again. “I’m sorry you got hurt. How are you feeling besides the pain?”

“I just got really fucking dizzy,” I answer honestly, closing my eyes again.

He takes the ice pack from my hand and gently prods at the tender spot on my scalp. When he pulls back, only a few specks of blood are on his fingers. “Good, it seems to be healing quickly. Why don’t you lay back on the couch while I tend to your leg?”

I try to look at said leg to assess the damage done to it, but my vision goes a little blurry. With Jack’s help I managed to swing my legs up on the couch, lying along the length of it. After he puts another hand towel down over my useless decorative pillow, I rest my head against it and look up at the ceiling.

“How does it look?” I can’t help but ask as he resumes cleaning it. When he doesn’t immediately answer, I try to squint down at it, but it doesn’t help.

“Like you got caught in a hunter’s trap,” Jack responds, gently pushing my shoulder back down so I’m flat against the cushions once again. “You’re lucky the bone didn’t break.”

Another wave of exhaustion hits me, and my eyes slide shut. “Yeah,” I try to say, but it comes out more as an exhale. My eyes flutter open when I feel his fingers poke and prod at my calf, but I can barely feel the pain as my body starts to shut down for sleep.

“I’m glad I stopped her in time,” he whispers.

I hum my acknowledgment that he spoke, but the void of sleep finally pulls me under.

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