Page 75 of Touched By Sin
He frowns. His brown eyes are tight and worried. “Don’t apologize for falling over a log.” To someone else, he says, “In there. Alaric, contact Dari. We need blood.”
“No.” I reach up, touching the stubble on his sharp jaw. My arm feels like lead.
His eyes come back to me, scanning my face.
“I’m sorry for what I said. You’re not weak and pathetic. You’re strong. You’re—”
“It’s okay.” He lowers me down on something soft—a couch—and I sink into the throw pillows. Ronan pulls a few out from underneath me, tossing them to the floor.
“Light up the fireplace. She’s cold,” Daemon barks.
“It hurts,” I whimper.
“I know,” he soothes, his fingers brushing my thigh as he lifts my skirt to inspect the wound. “I’m impressed you know how to tie a tourniquet, but it’s not tight enough to stop the bleeding.” He swiftly unties it, then pulls it even tighter. I wince while he softly inspects the wound.
“The fire is lit,” Ronan’s voice drifts back over. “How bad is it?”
“It’s bad enough that shit won’t end well unless Dariana arrives soon with the human.”
“It’s deep,” Ronan observes.
“She’s lost too much blood too fast to heal on her own. Fuck! Where’s Dari?”
Alaric walks into the room. “I’ll clean the wound.”
“The fuck you will!” Daemon snatches the bottle of vodka out of Alaric’s hand. Then his fingers are on my cheek, cupping it gently. “Remember when you hurt your knee? Remember the vodka?”
“Hmm?”
“It’ll be like that, only a thousand times worse, okay, beautiful?” He unscrews the cap and says to the others, “Hold her down.”
Warm hands grip my shoulders and knees.
“I need you to be very fucking brave for me, little angel. Can you do that?”
My eyelids are heavy. I look at him, but he seems so far away. “I ruin everything, Daemon.”
The boys exchange a glance.
“I say things I don’t mean.”
“Quiet!” There’s a warning in his tone, one I’m all too familiar with. “I don’t care about any of that shit, get it? We need to rinse out your wound.”
“Okay.”
His jaw tics and he gives my good leg a squeeze. “You ready?”
“Just do it.”
“See Ronan?”
I do. His hands are firm on my knees.
“You focus on him. Whatever you do, don’t look away from his eyes, okay? Let him be your anchor. I’ll count to three.”
A tear slides its way down my temple to my hairline.
“Three.”
