Page 5 of Devoted Sinner

“There’s one small cut. Otherwise, I think you got off lucky.”

“It wasn’t luck.”

King stood. He didn’t meet Bryson’s stare. “I understand if you feel you need to toss me out now, but I wish you wouldn’t. Archer can’t let me live if you do.”

With the adrenaline wearing off, Bryson felt twice as emotional. King had saved him and seemed so calm and resigned. Bryson’s chest hurt. He stared at the man who was used to being unwanted—who was used to being thrown away.

“Why would I toss you out?” Bryson didn’t give him time to answer. “You should probably strip and let me dig out that glass. I might need to call someone to stitch you up.”

Without a word, King tried reaching for the strings of the corset. He winced.

Bryson shot to his feet. “Let me.” He moved to King’s back and went to work on the string. To his shame, Bryson eyed King’s wide shoulders and the way the corset accentuated his small waist and round ass. His mouth went dry. “I knew you’d look amazing in this. Tomorrow, I’ll replace it.”

King didn’t say a word. He tried shrugging off the piece. King grunted and dropped his arms. It was obvious he couldn’t get undressed alone.

Bryson circled him. His palms slid beneath the corset and pushed the material down King’s arms. Without an ounce of shame, Bryson felt him up way more than necessary until he realized the clothing wouldn’t move past King’s waist. A large piece of glass had the material nailed to King’s skin.

“Oh, shit.” He ushered King to the bed. “Sit down. Let me see.” It was deep. Blood poured from the wound. “I’ll have to call someone. The glass might’ve punctured something, and you definitely need stitches.”

“Just yank it out. I can stitch it.”

Bryson’s gaze shot to King’s face. “Are you insane?”

King’s jaw was set in a hard line. He motioned toward a nearby nightstand. “Grab a bottle from that drawer. I’ve got this.”

Shock was the only reason he obeyed. Bryson yanked open the drawer and froze. There had to be fifty pill bottles inside. He went cold. They were all pain meds. His gaze moved King’s way.

King’s eyes were dead. “You may as well know all my secrets. Once the shock wears off, you’ll put me out. Everyone does eventually.”

Bryson closed the drawer. He spotted a pair of nearby house slippers. They were too big, but Bryson crammed his feet inside and headed back to the living room. It took a minute of searching through the debris, but he eventually found his phone. He dialed as he headed back toward King’s room.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Young, this is Bryson Long. Are you free for a house call?”

Thankfully, the doctor didn’t hesitate. “Of course. What’s the problem?”

Honesty was best, and Andre Young was used to dealing with people like him. “Someone shot up my house and one of my guards was hit by flying glass. It looks pretty bad. At the very least, he needs stitches.”

“I’m on my way. Be sure to leave the glass alone. If it hit anything vital, removing it could make things worse.”

Bryson let himself inside King’s room. King wore nothing but a red thong. He eyed King’s body. There was a unicorn tattoo on his ass cheek. That caught Bryson’s attention for a moment. Then, irritation ran down his spine. “Too late. It seems he ripped it out already.” He honestly couldn’t believe a genius like King would be so dumb. More likely, it was pure stubbornness.

A loud sigh came through the phone. “I’ll hurry.” The line disconnected.

It took Bryson a while to move the phone from his ear. King was a work of art. Bryson eyed every delectable inch until he realized the towel King held to his side was already soaked with blood.

King motioned toward a pair of pajama pants on the bed. “Will you help me?”

Bryson tossed his phone aside and rushed to help. He led King back to the bed. A trail of blood followed them. After a moment of panicked inspection, he realized the blood trail was from King’s feet.

“Fuck.” He dropped to his knees and inspected King’s feet. They were ripped to shreds and still had glass buried in them. “You’re such a stubborn ass.” The words came out sounding enraged in Bryson’s panic. “You carried me in here with no regard to yourself. What is wrong with you?”

A pained-sounding chuckle burst from King. “Would you like a list?”

Bryson shifted to his feet and headed into the bathroom. He soaked as many wash cloths as he could find in hot water before returning to King. Bryson found King trying to put on his pajama pants by himself while still holding the towel to his side.

“For fuck’s sake. Just stop. Let me take care of your feet first.”

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