Page 25 of The Beast of Ashwood Manor

“But you just said—”

“Forget it, Cale.” Furrowing my brows, I nodded. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Cale crossed his arms and looked away. “I mean, you didn’t really scare me. I just don’t like to be pushed around.” He glanced over at me. “I can always just break the table apart and put it back. It’s fine. Really.”

I shook my head and winced when I shifted onto my left leg. My mind wavered. I didn’t feel well.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just been a long few days.” I brushed past him and into the dining room, no longer caring about what he’d done now that the beast had died down. “Keep the table,” I said, retreating to the stairs. Climbing up them was a pain, and it didn’t help when Cale followed me.

“How did you get hurt?” he asked.

“Hunting’s a dangerous job.”

“Let me help you up the stairs.”

Before I could protest, he was already beside me, slinging my arm over his shoulder. Downstairs, I heard a distant door open and close and then Mary’s and Natalie’s voices calling for Cale.

I rushed up the stairs, eager to get away from them all. As soon as I got to the top, my knees buckled.

Cale caught me before I fully landed on the floor, grunting as he tried to pull me up. “Maybe we should head for the bathroom,” he said. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” I growled.

“I’m insisting!” He pulled me toward the bathroom and opened the door, and I went along with it only because I was ready to sit down.

Plopping into the chair beside the tub, I closed my eyes and took a few breaths.

There was already water in the tub, as one of the girls usually filled it up when I was out on a hunt, knowing I’d want to bathe when I got back.

When Cale went to build a fire in the fireplace, I stopped him.

“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want a bath. I just need to patch this up and go to sleep.”

Cale cocked his head at me. “You’re filthy.”

Groaning, I rolled my head around, trying to work the kinks out of my shoulders. “Yeah, I am.”

“You don’t care about that?”

“Why should I?”

Sighing, Cale placed the logs inside and lit the wood anyway, then he drew up a bucket of water from the tub and set it on the grate over the flames. “You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I don’t want to.”

Pulling up another chair, he sat in front of me, and I went tense. He looked up at me with those brown eyes, and in the waning evening light, I could do nothing but stare.

“What?” I asked.

“I want to see your wound.”

With a groan, I stood up and took off my trousers. On my left thigh, a big red gash oozed blood. It had stopped for the most part, but the sting was still intense.

“What happened?” Cale asked.

“An animal.”

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