Chapter 18
eighteen
Kaiden
I wasn’t gentle as I dragged her through the apartment and up the stairs to my room. I should have been. She was stabbed for fuck’s sake. A scratch my ass. The dull burning I felt in my own side was probably nothing compared to the pain she endured.
“You still haven’t told me how you knew where the scratch was.”
Her feet dug into the throw rug, and I stopped pulling long enough to turn and face her.
I’d avoided looking before because I didn’t trust myself not to lose it, but we were way past that now.
My shadows burst free without command to shade the room.
Inky tendrils wound their way up her legs, and her little gasp was enough to set my blood on fire.
“My right side is sore,” I told her, my tone sharp. “So, I took an educated guess that that’s where your wound is.”
Sore was an understatement. The spot just above my hip was throbbing.
I needed to see how bad it was, but my bond had other ideas.
She wanted to argue. Arms crossed, she pouted in that determined but adorable way I usually found appealing.
Right now, her attitude made me want to spank that ass until she couldn’t walk. Maybe this time I’d actually do it.
I blew out a steady breath. Health first, punishment second.
“That’s a bit more than just feeling my emotions, wouldn’t you say?”
There was a new undercurrent of fear leaking down the bond that had nothing to do with the most recent djinn attack.
The subject of our growing bond was always a touchy one, but there was no time to comfort her about it.
Gods help us if that knife was poisoned with more nightshade.
I directed my shadows higher, until they wrapped around her hips and chest, leaving a gap where her wound was.
“Pain is a heightened emotion,” I explained on my way to the ensuite. My shadows ensured she followed, despite her futile attempts to resist them. “Stop fighting me and get your ass in here.”
Seconds later, she stood before me, and I didn’t bother asking permission.
My fingers curled under the edge of her soaked tank top and pulled it off in one solid motion.
Ignoring her scowl, I gently gripped her hips and lifted her onto the counter, putting her breasts right in my face.
It was an effort to ignore them and keep her gaze.
Her penchant for wearing lacy little scraps over her chest would be the death of me.
“Don’t move.”
Her brow creased, but she listened as I knelt and rummaged through the cabinets beneath her.
Bandages, tape, clean dressings, sterile water; it all went onto the counter.
Next, I pulled some purified blue clay, ginger, raw honey, and ground cat’s claw.
She would need a poultice—likely more than one round.
At the last minute, I grabbed a sterile pack of stitches and tucked them between the supplies in the basket before she could see. I hoped I wouldn’t need them, but the amount of blood on her shirt was enough for me to worry.
“What are you going to do?” Eryn’s worried question bounced off the walls of the small room.
I remained where I was, knelt between her legs so that her wound was eye level. Gifted a front-row seat to her rapid breaths and stunning body, I regretted that the first time I had her like this wasn’t under different circumstances.
“Whatever needs to be done.” I left no room for argument and splashed some of the sterile water onto a thick slice of gauze. “Hold still.”
She hissed when the cool liquid hit her hip. I tried to be gentle, but most of the blood had already dried and each swipe of the gauze pulled on sensitive skin no matter how light my touch. With every pass, the dressing changed color to a deeper red, and my bond winced.
Her little pants betrayed her level of pain, even if I hadn’t noticed her white-knuckled grip on the marble.
“Easy,” I whispered, dropping another soaked cotton square into the sink. “I’m done for now. Catch your breath.”
She was going to need it. The wound wasn’t as bad as I feared, not an actual puncture. But the knife definitely sliced deeper than a simple pressure bandage could solve. Eryn needed stitches, and I fully expected a battle once I told her.
I waited until her breathing evened out, and her complexion regained some color before reaching for that little pack in the basket. Maybe if I moved quick enough…
“No!” she shouted and would have vaulted off the counter if I hadn’t stood. “I know you like control, but absolutely not. Not this time. You are not stitching me closed in your bathroom.”
I leaned in, forcing her against the mirror. A few thick shadows crossed over her thighs just in case. They hovered, ready to restrain if asked.
“The wound is too deep, princess. It’s only a couple tiny stitches, and then I’ll be done.”
“How many?” she demanded and tried to wiggle out from under me.
“It really doesn’t—”
“How many stitches, Kaiden?”
I set my palms on either side of her hips. She stopped fighting as I mentally evaluated the task before me. Lying wasn’t an option, that wasn’t who I was, but fuck she wouldn’t like this.
“Six,” I conceded. “Possibly eight.”
Off she went, fighting with renewed strength and no care for her bleeding hip.
“Eryn,” I tried to reason with her, but words were hard when I was so focused on keeping her still. She kicked out, narrowly missing my balls with the point of her shoe. Feisty. Sexy as fuck. But also overreacting just a tad, I thought.
“The hospital can do it,” she growled, pissed that she hadn’t made any progress to escape.
I shook my head and tightened my shadows. Her bleeding restarted, and it was now heavy enough to scent, filling the small space with a hint of copper.
“It’s too risky.” I added another band of shadows to her shoulders, lest she try to twist and it opened her wound even more. “I wouldn’t be allowed back with you, and I’d have no way to protect you from djinn trying to illusion their way inside. Not to mention, we can’t afford the questions.”
With my restraints in place, and my hips between her legs, she wasn’t going anywhere. I grabbed the small needle and thread and called for my cousin.
“Ezra!”
Eryn paled at the sight of the curved needle, barely longer than the length of my finger to the first knuckle. I lined up everything I would need beside the sink, just out of reach of her clenched fists.
“Yo, what’s up?” Ez popped into the room, took one look at our position, and grinned. “Didn’t think you were one to want an audience, cuz.”
I glared at his sad attempt at a joke.
“Numb her, please. And then get the fuck out.”
Used to my attitude, he prowled forward the few steps and reached a single finger toward Eryn. She stiffened under her bonds but didn’t make a sound as Ezra pressed that finger to the side of her wound. I felt a shadow of her relief in my own side and knew she was plenty numb to get to work.
“I’ll call if we need another round,” I told him and dismissed him with a wave.
My cousin left without a backward glance or new taunting comment. Perhaps he sensed the tension and decided not to poke at it. Unlike him, but there were more pressing matters to tend to. I slowly knelt once more, keeping my movements obvious.
“Will you cooperate?” I asked her. “Or do we have to do this the hard way?”
The knee to my temple took me by surprise. Satisfaction dripped down the bond like a steady faucet, and I sighed.
“Not exactly smart to knock the head of the guy who’s about to put a needle through your skin,” I tsked and added some shadows over her knees. “I understand your fear, princess, but violence isn’t the answer here.”
More futile struggles. I wiped away the fresh blood and moved in.
“Wait!” My hand paused millimeters from her skin, and I glanced up. “I-I’m not afraid.”
I lifted a brow and pointedly glanced at her shaking grip on the counter. “No?”
She shook her head. “I-I…”
I held perfectly still. The outcome wouldn’t change—it couldn’t, she needed this—but I refused to begin until I had her consent.
“Eryn.” The use of her name and my tone snapped her out of the building panic. “What have I told you? What promise have I kept despite everything?”
“You w-won’t hurt me.”
“I swear it on our bond.” My fixed stare didn’t waver. “Trust me to know what you can handle. Trust me to take care of you, princess.”
Her tension still tightened every limb, but she took a deep breath, held my gaze, and nodded. I moved before she could change her mind. Thank the gods, I’d had plenty of practice stitching myself and Ezra over the years. I was quick.
She jumped at the first pull of the thread but didn’t cry, and I kept a close eye on our bond for any spikes in pain. My first estimate was correct, six stitches, neatly along the curve of her hip. Scarring should be minimal, but the poultice would help just in case.
I mixed my gathered ingredients with hot, sterile water in a small pestle and allowed it time to cool as I cleaned her of any remaining dried blood. When the mixture was at a comfortable temperature, I scooped it into a fresh bandage and taped it down.
“Get ready,” I warned, a second before removing my shadows.
She fell forward with a slight squeak, right into my chest. I kept my hold light and open in case she wanted nothing to do with my touch, but she melted into me.
Carefully wrapping my arms around her, I kissed the top of her head.
I hadn’t realized how much of the fear and tension in here was my own.
It sat bottled inside me as I focused on her comfort.
“Thank you,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m proud of you, princess.”
There was some exhaustion and relief on her end at the knowledge that it was all over. What surprised me was the contentment. Was it possible she wanted my touch? By her reaction…I didn’t dare hold on to what that could mean, but longing grew inside me anyway.