Page 72 of Saving Her Vampire

“I do. You are perfect for me.”

“Really? How am I perfect for you?” I ask dryly.

“You went through the same things I did in school. You can relate to me,” he says.

“Lots of people go through the same thing. Bullying in school has never gone away,” I say.

“Yes, but you always looked to me for support.”

“What are you talking about? I never said anything to you.” I frown.

“It doesn’t matter what you think happened, I know,” he says. He drops the towel and picks up a pack of gaze.

“I’m going to need medical attention.” I can’t feel my leg throbbing, but soon the pain will be unbearable—my stomach rolls at the thought of bleeding out. I was prepared to die at that moment, but now I want to live. I want to live to see Bash tear him apart.

“No doctors,” he protests.

“Are you going to let the bullet stay inside of me?” I ask.

“I have a plan to get it out.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I’ve watched surgery before.” He shrugs.

“You’re fucking serious,” I whisper, my eyes widen.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” he says, scowling.

“Fuck you,” I growl. “You kidnapped me, tied me up, felt me up, watched me go pee, and shot me. I will speak to you however I want. What else are you going to do to me?” I demand harshly.

“I will fix your leg,” he forces out through gritted teeth.

“Really? Do you have the tools for that?”

“I’ll get them,” he says desperately. “Stop talking.” He holds his bloody hands against his head, smearing his skin with blood, pounding lightly. “Let me think for a minute.”

“Didn’t you have time to think while I was passed out after you shot me?” I ask snidely. At this point, I’m tired, I have bruises all over my body, and I’m sick of listening to him. Oh, yeah, and a gunshot wound!

“Shut up,” he screams.

“You're an asshole,” I yell.

“Bitch, watch your mouth,” he threatens.

“Bash is going to find me,” I say softly.

His eyes widen and then narrow. “Don’t talk about him.”

“You know he’s a vampire,” I state.

“So?”

“Do you know what vampires can do?” I ask.

“He won’t find us.” He brushes off the question.

“How do you know about the supernatural?”

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