Chapter 9 Lore #2
He didn’t. Another oddity. From our limited time together, he didn’t seem like the type who would be a heavy sleeper.
Now that I was fully awake and alert, I listened closely, noticing the wet rasp of his shallow breaths for the first time.
As carefully as I could manage, I moved his arm off me and slipped out from under it, making sure to keep the blanket in place over his lower half.
Modesty was clearly important in a potential life-or-death situation.
I turned around and finally got my first good look at him since last night. I stilled as I discovered why my spider-killing-savior was silent.
Above his ribs the blanket tented out.
I must have made some sound of alarm, because the assassin’s eyes slowly blinked open, and I nearly collapsed with relief.
That cool, beautiful stare narrowed on me, and I got all warm and fuzzy inside. Lord Stoic would live to torment giant spiders another day.
Praise be to the gods who watched over sinners.
He studied me for a silent moment, seeming to come to some satisfactory conclusion, then closed his eyes.
I might not be well-versed in medical thrillers but had read enough to know that I had to keep him conscious.
“Is that a dagger in your chest or are you just happy to see me?”
He groaned as if the joke pained him more than the blade in his ribs. But it served its purpose. He was now alert. Which was incredible and hard to fathom.
“Grab the hilt and pull it out at the angle it went in.”
Correction, he was now alert and bossy.
I swallowed the lump in my throat at his command.
I was not equipped to remove deadly weapons.
Mostly because blood made me squeamish.
Also due to the small fact that I had no medical background, and it seemed like the sort of thing where experience was required.
His pale gaze held mine.
“You’re stronger than you think, Peaches.”
Sweet, delusional soul.
I wasn’t worried about my emotional strength.
I was concerned about possibly puking on him or passing out or worse, puking and passing out in it.
Since he’d assumed I was a damsel in distress for all the wrong reasons, he would have to find that out on his own.
Some lessons were best learned through experience, anyway. I imagined getting vomit in a wound would be an event not easily forgotten. One day he might even thank me for instilling such valuable insight in him.
“You’re just buttering me up to avoid the ‘cuddling naked in a cave without buying me dinner first’ discussion we’re about to have.”
I swore he almost grinned before his expression tightened again.
“Next time you’re close to death, I’ll be sure to court you properly first.”
“See that you do.”
Channeling my best impression of a main character who wouldn’t pass out at the sight of blood, or care that she was butt naked with an assassin she’d accidentally dry-humped a few minutes before, I wrapped both hands around the hilt, closed my eyes, and tugged.
And tugged.
And tugged.
I opened my eyes and glared at the dagger. It was really stuck in the bone.
“Wretched, cursed thing. Who stabbed you? The god of war?”
“More like a goddess,” he mumbled.
I glanced up, pausing my very important work.
“Are you telling me you experienced a real-life knife-to-the-throat scene? And I missed it?”
“Lore…”
“Oh, my gods.” I leaned forward, mindful of not pushing the blade in. The extraction was difficult enough as it was. “Did you like it?”
I assumed the combination of heightened emotions mixed with danger could be an intoxicating aphrodisiac in the right circumstances.
Personally, I wouldn’t be thinking sexy thoughts if some random lunatic accosted me with a blade in a shadowy location.
However, if my known enemy—who happened to look like a demigod—decided to lean in all slow and sensual… I might feel otherwise.
Briefly.
Then hate myself for it for at least a chapter or two until our next charged encounter.
I studied the assassin carefully, trying to dissect his thoughts.
His expression went completely blank. Not because he didn’t understand what I’d meant, but because he did enjoy it. The fiend!
I stared at him like I was seeing him for the first time.
The quiet ones really were freaks in the bedchamber.
Who would have thought Lord Stoic would be turned on by violence? Actually, that sort of tracked, given his proficiency for killing.
Not to mention, he’d said the dagger was wielded by someone he’d called a goddess, so no wonder it had turned him on when she’d stabbed him.
I all but rolled my eyes at the predictability. Stupid, immortal weregod. Of course he’d fall for another inhumanly beautiful mate.
An uncomfortable feeling settled in my stomach.
One I refused to analyze too closely.
“Well,” I said brightly, “I’m sure she was stunning, so a physical reaction makes sense.”
He looked at me like I might be a little crazy, but my answering look reminded him I wasn’t the one who’d gotten all hot and bothered while getting stabbed. I was simply being supportive of his obvious depravity.
Until we figured out how to get back to Bellington, we were stuck working together.
He wrapped one calloused hand around mine and nodded for me to pry the blade out again.
This time he helped.
“She looked like you.”