Page 32 of Tide Touched

Someone touches my back and I groan. ‘Katie, Katie. It’s Carter. Shit.’ He helps me up into a sitting position, turning me over to look at my face, which I’m sure looks gorgeous, all beaten and bloody. ‘What happened?’

I try to jerk away from him, mumbling where he can shove it. I don’t care if we’re fated anymore. Not worth it. I try to get to my feet and stumble. Carter, quick as a flash, catches me and I scream. ‘R—ribs b—broken, ass—asshole,’ I get out.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls. I jerk up—immediately regret the movement—as my head turns, trying to place the sound as that same warm, familiar feeling washes over me, temporarily easing the pain. I sigh, breathing in raggedly. ‘I thought that was you,’ I mumble.

‘Come on, you need to lay down.’ Carter puts one arm around my waist, setting mine over his shoulder.

My vision sways, darkness threatening again. I turn to look up at him, ready to spit some insult, but pause at the look on his face. I might be imagining it, but his blue eyes look bright with fear and concern. Yeah, I’m definitely imagining that.

The next thing I know, I’m jostled and then I’m being set on a bed. I try to get up. To escape. ‘No.’ My voice cracks.

A hand on my shoulder presses me back down. ‘Stay. Rest.’

Slowly, I wake as pain grips me. I gasp, choking on it.

‘Hey, easy.’ Carter sits up. He’s on the bed beside me.

I turn and blink at him, not quite understanding. ‘What are you doing here?’ My voice is hoarse.

As though he gives a shit, Carter turns to his bedside and hands me a glass of water. ‘I stayed with you. Last night. Here, drink.’

I’m tempted to knock it out of his hands, but I really am thirsty. With trembling fingers, I reach out to take the glass and drink it all, handing it back.

‘Courtney did this, didn’t she?’

I lay back down gingerly. Thanks to my wolf healing, I can feel that my ribs have already stitched themselves back together. Still hurts like a bitch, though. I reach up and touch my once-broken nose and gasp. It’s no longer broken, but I make a mental note not to touch it.

I look up at Carter. His blond hair is mussed from the pillow, but I can tell by the shadows under his eyes he hasn’t slept.

‘If you stayed here hoping I’d wake up and fuck you, you’re going to be disappointed.’ I try to get up.

‘Katherine, no.’ Carter climbs around the bed to face me, without stopping me. ‘That’s not why I stayed.’ He reaches for me. ‘Look, this bond between us doesn’t make sense to me, but I wish she hadn’t done this to you.’ When I don’t pull back or run away—like I could right now—he sets a hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’

I scoff. While I might still like the idea of being with him physically, everything else is piling up, weighing me down, and I don’t want to die alone in this room or be tempted to do a nose-dive out the window. I shrug him off. ‘As if.’

Carter sighs, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration. ‘I’m serious. No one should be treated like that—’

I groan as I turn, setting my feet to the ground. Anger curdles in the pit of my stomach at all that happened. Watery morning sunlight spills through the gaps in my curtains. I need to shower, to get all this sticky blood off me. To brush my teeth and get the gross taste out of my mouth. I want to change. If I get some food, I should heal faster. Maybe Ella will come soon.

Carter gets to his feet and raises his hands placatingly. ‘No, hey.’ He takes his shirt off.

I take a step back. ‘I’m serious, Carter, I’m not up for—’ I pause as I take him in. I stumble toward him a step, my eyes on the massive purple bruise on his side, this is a newer, different wound than the other day. ‘What…?’

‘My uncle is not a good guy,’ Carter says weakly. ‘I do what he tells me, and mostly he leaves me alone.’ He swallows thickly. ‘He wasn’t pleased about last night.’

This time, I reach for him. My hands flatten on his chest, my fingers hovering delicately over the wound. I blink up at him. ‘So he… punished you.’ Now it makes sense.

Wordlessly, Carter hugs me, careful of both our wounds. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, voice cracking. ‘I know I’m a shit mate to you.’ He holds me close, and a weird sense of comfort warms me. It dawns on me that Carter is not as black and white as I’d thought.

I press my cheek against his chest. ‘Thanks for coming for me, for bringing me back. For staying.’ I stagger back. ‘I want a shower. I want to get cleaned up.’

‘Want me to stay?’

I don’t have to look around my little prison to know the answer. ‘No.’ I set a hand on his stomach, over his impressive abs, by the wound. I wish I could tell him how badly I feel for him, too. But the words don’t come. They’re buried under the still-sticky blood tangled up in my throat.

Disappointment is clear on his face. He reaches a hand out, his fingertips brushing over my cheek where the guard struck me. ‘I never wanted you hurt.’

I drop my gaze. I’m feeling too much right now to know how to respond. ‘Please…’ I just want to get cleaned up.

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