Page 90 of Fall into Savagery

I burrowed in closer to his touch. “Then stop treating me like I’m made of glass. It hurts me every time you guys do it. It hurts me when you won’t listen to what I have to say. It just—it hurts me, Damien.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. Just let me take care of you. I can handle it.”

He nodded. “I know.”

Mikhail came out of the bathroom then. Something shifted in his eyes, but it was gone before I could figure out what it was. He smiled a little at me. “Bath’s ready.”

Damien nodded. “Thank you.”

Mikhail walked over and petted my hair. “Call me if you guys need anything.”

And then he was out the door before I could open my mouth. I frowned after him.

We had all been out of sync since we got Damien back, and I didn’t know why that was or even how we could get back to how it was.

Damien tugged on my hair.

“Come on, pet, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I nodded and stood up on shaky legs. Damien watched me for a beat before he stood up too. He might be the injured one, but somehow, it was him who helped me to the bathroom. I stood in front of him, my back to the mirror. His eyes made a slow perusal up and down my body, stopping around my sex and my breasts, making me blush.

“Let’s get you naked,” I said softly.

He hesitated for a quick second before he nodded and held still for me to undress him.

I started with his shirt. He bent down for me to pull it over his head before letting it fall to the bathroom floor.

I didn’t pay attention to anything else but the white gauze that covered most of his torso.

My hands shook as my finger sought out the opening of the gauze. I gently pulled it away from him, watching as I revealed a little bit more of him to me each time I twisted it off.

My lips trembled, and my eyes burned at the sight.

He had downplayed his injuries.

He was so good at pretending everything was okay, that he wasn’t in pain, he almost fooled me.

“It’s better now, pet,” he said softly.

I shot him a watery smile when I got the last of it off him. It joined his shirt on the floor as my eyes roamed over him, stopping at all the scars, wounds, and bruises I could see.

So many cuts everywhere. It got so bad that I had a hard time seeing any patch of skin that might not be injured.

A nasty bruise was on his left rib cage—the one place he wasn’t covered with tattoos. Who knew where he was bruised that I couldn’t see because of the ink?

My eyes came up to his torso, down to his forearms, catching on the old cross tattoo. I traced it delicately with my finger, afraid I might somehow hurt this big, giant man, before gliding my finger up to the grim reaper tattoo.

I always thought the tattoo represented him as the giver of death, not that he could be taken away from me at any given moment.

I shivered, stepping in closer to him, letting my eyes come up to a big horizontal cut across his pec, so close to his heart.

The wound hadn’t quite healed. Dry blood crusted around the opening.

I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“What would I do if I lost you?” I whispered, my voice thick.

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