Chapter 19 For You Alone #2
“It’s just a bandage—”
“No.” The protest ripped raw from my throat. “It’s you.”
Her lips parted in something like wonder, and every rational protocol dissolved, antiseptics abandoned, triage checklist incinerated. She clung to my elbows as I framed her face in my palms and stared into her eyes.
He doesn’t like me, does he?
A dozen concerns screamed for attention: Suture kit, gauze packages, trauma shears in my back pocket…
Let them wait.
Here, now, the only security she needed was my hands learning how to cradle instead of command.
#
Seri
My body felt like it was betraying me, reacting to Casimir in ways I didn’t understand.
My skin tingled where it touched his, and my heart was beating faster than it should have been.
I could feel the mate bond between us, a hum of connection, but it was all so confusing.
I didn’t know what it meant to be this close to someone, to feel a man’s warmth and strength and scent so intimately.
All I knew was that it made me want to burrow deeper into his arms, even as it scared me.
His practicality was oddly comforting. He didn’t coddle me, didn’t try to sugarcoat things. He just was, steady and unshakable, and somehow that made me feel safer than any gentle words could have.
He took care of my ankle first, fussing at me sternly the whole time, and threatened to make me use crutches if I didn’t let them carry me everywhere.
I didn’t mind them doing that; I just forgot to ask.
I was used to pushing through pain, not having three giants hovering around just waiting for a chance to jump in and help me.
After rewrapping my ankle, he eased my cardigan off, and shivers racked me almost immediately. He rolled up my shirt sleeve, but I was so cold, my whole body shook, and the fabric kept sliding right back down.
“You’re going to have to take your shirt off,” he muttered at last.
“You’re going to have an icicle for a wife if I do,” I complained quietly.
“I’ll thaw you out after we’re done.”
I blinked at that, wondering what he meant, then blinked again when I saw red steal over the tips of his ears.
I wasn’t exactly comfortable sitting on the couch in my bra, but knew he needed access to Claudio’s ‘lesson,’ so I endured the embarrassment and kept myself distracted by pulling my hair over my right shoulder to keep it out of the way.
Besides, he’d probably say something like, ‘Modesty impedes treatment,’ I thought to myself with a secret smile.
“Ready?” he said, not looking up as he rolled his own sleeves past his corded forearms, then snapped on a pair of exam gloves.
His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, something sharp and focused. I perched on the edge of the couch, my hands clutching my discarded shirt to my chest for something to hold onto.
“I guess?”
“Good enough.”
His fingers were gentle and steady, but taking off the bandage was still torturous, especially when the gauze stuck, and a glance at the cut turned my stomach. I didn’t want him touching it, no matter what my brain said about how dangerous an infection could be.
Which was why, when he gripped my elbow, I pulled away.
“Seri? It needs to be drained again, and you’ve popped three stitches—”
“It’s just, it already feels like a hornet’s nest.”
“Hornets don’t nest in flesh. They—”
“That’s not the point!” The words came out shriller than intended. I hugged my arm without thinking, then grimaced at the fireworks in my bicep. “It hurts!”
For three heartbeats, only silence. Then his shoulders squared and his gaze cooled to mint frost. He plucked a fresh washcloth from the table, folded it precisely into thirds, and held it out, his eyes not meeting mine.
“Bite down on this instead of your tongue.”
I didn’t want to, but his tone told me I wasn’t getting out of this, so I took it.
The first antiseptic swipe stole my breath. His knee pressed into the couch next to my thigh as he leaned closer.
“Breathe through it,” he ordered, like he was commanding a skittish colt. “Focus on my voice. Last summer, we tracked a basilisk through sulfur vents. Zane insisted on collecting its venom.”
Fire lanced up my arm, and my teeth sank into the washcloth.
“I bet twenty that the beast would eat him,” his voice softened as the fabric muffled my scream, “but when the damn thing struck, it went for Ko instead.”
The world narrowed to his hands, steady as stone, and the story weaving through the torture over my whimpers.
“—and then I carried Ko thirty miles as he worked the toxin out of his system.” Finally stripping off his gloves, he brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Had to tie him down afterward so he didn’t kill Zane.”
The last piece of tape secured, I spat out the washcloth.
“Did Zane get his venom in the end?” I sniffled.
“No. He thinks the bottle was smashed.”
“And what really happened?”
“Ko sold it and bought cookies. Lots of cookies.”
Laughter hiccuped through the last of my sobs. He cupped my elbow, examining his handiwork. He was close enough now for me to see the faint stubble gilding his jaw. My good hand rose unbidden, and he seemed to hold his breath as I traced his cheek.
“You did better than most,” he murmured. For some reason, that made me feel a little stronger. “You didn’t faint like Zane would have or mutter curses the whole time like Koa.”
“That’s why I asked you and not one of them,” I admitted.
“Because you thought this wouldn’t affect me?” His whole face shut down, and I hurried to explain.
“No, because I knew you’d get the job done and not break down. Koko would have stopped at my first tear, and Zane wouldn’t have made it past my first scream.”
“Emotions complicate triage,” he agreed with a solemn nod. “Treat the problem, then the panic.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, feeling like a mess of tears and snot. He gave me a wad of tissues, and I blew my nose, the sound embarrassingly loud.
“There.” His lips brushed the gauze, so fleeting that I might have imagined it. “Now it will heal faster.”
“Because of the kiss?” I stared at the spot where his mouth had been.
“Because I cleaned it out and applied antiseptic.”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed, a soft, breathy sound that surprised me. Did mates normally make your stomach swoop like you’d missed a stair?
“I’d rather believe it’s your kiss,” I whispered.
To my astonishment, a faint flush crept up his neck, and he looked away, clearing his throat. I bit my lip to keep from grinning too widely, warmth spreading through my chest despite the chill in my bones.
I’d been so nervous to ask him for help, so unsure of how he’d react, despite Koko’s assurances. Now I was glad I had. Seeing this side of him helped me understand a lot about him.
“Here.” He abruptly pulled off his sweater, revealing a black shirt underneath. “I promised to thaw you out.”
I took it eagerly, savoring the heat rolling off of it.
As he helped me work it over my sore arm, I inhaled the rich scent of moonflowers and snuggled into the soft cashmere.
Pulling the sleeves over my hands and curling up on the couch, I watched him greedily as he cleaned up the supplies scattered across the coffee table.
My traitorous eyelids began to droop as I burrowed deeper into his warmth and scent, but I fought to stay awake a little longer, wanting to stay in this bubble with him.
“Will you stay with me, Casimir? Just until I fall asleep?”
“Of course. How long do you think it will be—”
“Not long,” I sighed sadly, my heart dropping to my shoes. I wished he wanted to stay in the bubble with me, too.
“—before I’m Simmy again?”
Oh.
Oh.
I hid a little smile in my sweater-covered fists. Koa had suggested that as part of my ‘Un-Terrify Casimir’ strategy, and it worked!
I wasn’t going to give in so quickly, though. A good angler knew when to set the hook and when to play the line.
“Hmm,” was all I gave him, earning a nearly soundless huff in reply.
I was almost out when a cool hand brushed my forehead.
“Sleep, my love.” Firm lips touched my cheek. “And know all of my kisses are for you alone.”
My love. His first endearment.
I wanted to open my eyes to see if he meant it, but my body refused to cooperate.
“I love you, Simmy,” I breathed, the words slipping out before I could stop them, but I was already floating in that hazy space between dreams and reality, too far gone to know if he’d heard them.
#
Zane
The crisp night air did exactly zero favors for cooling down the aura of stupid horny thoughts clinging to me like Brumous’ slobber.
The pup trotted ahead, snuffling through moonlit peonies while my brain kept replaying Casimir’s, “You require assistance. I’ll provide it,” growl from half an hour ago.
I kicked a pinecone into the bushes.
Just changing her bandages, I reminded myself.
Yeah, our resident choirboy was probably elbow-deep in antiseptic right now, but my dick didn’t give a shit about logic.
“Hey, fur butt. You ever get jealous of people with functional moral compasses?”
He snapped at a moth.
“Exactly.”
I yanked my hood over my head as the April chill warred with the furnace in my guts. Hormones helpfully supplied HD footage of Seri’s rounded shoulders and narrow back, glimpsed through the window as Casimir helped her take her shirt off.
Brumous bounded ahead, woofing at me to follow.
Right. Walkies. Priorities.
“All right, Brumster. One more lap.” I followed him to the oak tree, its budding branches pointing at constellations Ko could name and Cas could probably shoot down.
By the time we circled back to the kitchen door, my jeans felt two sizes too small.
Brumous tilted his head as he waited for me to open it.
He didn’t understand, of course. He was too busy being adorable and innocent.
I, on the other hand, was a fang-rotted mess of testosterone and overactive imagination.