Chapter 11 #2
“She chewed through the bandages,” Deacon grumps, not looking at me.
Instead, he picks up the bandages on the ground, folds them, and sets aside a few butterfly clips and wipes.
“Trying to lick her leg. It won’t heal if she does that, and I’m not about to get torn to bits constantly coming out here to check on it.
” He rolls his eyes, but it looks distracted rather than actually pissed.
“Hold her so I can do this. She doesn’t like it, but she needs to suck it up. ”
It takes a few tries, but I finally wrap my arms around Pearl enough for Deacon to work on her front leg. She doesn’t try to bite, though she jerks toward him even with the muzzle on, and makes noises of clear protest that aren’t up for interpretation.
The silence is deafening, rather than comfortable. Fear prickles up my spine, and I find myself shivering as the sun continues to set. I don’t like this man. I don’t trust him, and I’d rather be stuck in a room with his adopted brother than out here with him, with or without a weapon.
But soon, the silence becomes too much, and I open my mouth, needing to fill it with literally anything at all.
“How do you know how to do this?” I ask quickly and without second-guessing myself.
It’s clear to me this isn’t his first rodeo, and there’s a practiced professionalism in the way he checks out the wounds on Pearl’s leg before wrapping them again.
Deacon doesn’t answer for a few seconds. The silence stretches into a minute, then two, until he sighs and snugs up the bandages enough that she whines in discomfort. “I’m a paramedic,” he says finally. “I have practice with this.”
The look on my face must be offensive, because he looks at me with a deadpan, unimpressed expression and rolls his eyes. “Why ask if you’re going to look like you just ate roadkill?”
“Because I didn’t expect that. I can’t help being surprised.”
“Why?” A smile touches the corner of his mouth, though he doesn’t look up again.
“Am I not allowed to save lives? That’s what Fox does too, isn’t it?
What is there to keep me from doing the same?
” When he finally meets my eyes, the look there is goading and arrogant, like he’s not really asking when both of us know the answer to the question.
How can a monster like him take time out of his week to save the lives of anyone around here? Before seeing him bandage Pearl, I wouldn’t have thought he had a care in the world about anyone. But to hear that it’s his job to keep people from dying?
Well, there’s a kind of irony in that I almost want to cackle at, with how ridiculous this whole thing is.
My expression must betray my thoughts, because Deacon snorts and shakes his head as he works.
His movements remain deft and experienced, like he’s also pretty well versed in bandaging up animals for a living.
“Even guys like me can have unexpected skills. My brother, Jed? He’s the best chef you’d ever meet.
And you’d never know he got his start here, with our mother, cooking—well…
” His grin isn’t apologetic, but it is a little rueful.
“Cooking…?” I trail off, nonplussed, and I’m surprised when Deacon raises his brows like he’s shocked by the question.
“You haven’t figured it out.” That one isn’t a question, and his grin returns. “You really haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Figured what out?” Something in the words sends a shiver down my spine, and I unintentionally clench my arms around Pearl like I’m protecting her from some awful truth.
His laugh isn’t as sweet as Fox’s. The snicker has the hair on my arms standing up, and when he suddenly gets to his feet, I do as well, ready to bolt.
Not that Deacon gives me the option. Without warning, he grabs me by my borrowed flannel, holding me in place while he unclips the muzzle from around Pearl’s face. “Tell your dog good night. You’re going back inside.”
“I’m—”
“Or don’t.” He waits another second, giving me the choice, and almost instinctively I reach down to carefully scratch her uninjured ear, still being held by Deacon’s hand in my shirt.
“You fed her, right?” The mention of food has my stomach clenching around nothing, but I catch Deacon rolling his eyes when I glance his way.
“Yes, little rabbit. I’m not going to let your dog starve.
She’s eaten twice today, unlike you.” After a few more seconds he pulls me back, getting an unhappy whine from Pearl in return.
“She’ll be back,” Deacon calls, as though she can understand him.
“You need to sleep anyway. And before you ask, yes. She has water, a dog house, and I’ll feed her again. Satisfied?”
“Not really,” I can’t help but grumble. Satisfied isn’t even on my radar.
But if he cares, or has any opinion on my current emotional state, Deacon keeps it to himself. His grip shifts until he’s holding my hand, but it’s no less absolute as he drags me back up to the porch.
“Fox says no more dog kennel today.” He sighs before opening the door and glancing at me, the intention clear on his face. “He says it’s too much. Do you know what I think?”
“No.” I don’t really care what he thinks, and I look away from him, already walking inside, only for Deacon to grab me by the hair and shove me into the hallway until my back hits the shiplap wall.
It pulls a gasp from my throat, but before I can even think to fight him, my hands are thrust to the wall above me, and Deacon is suddenly in my space.
“I think you’re wearing Fox’s clothes, you smell a little like him, and I bet”—he leans in, his eyes on mine, looking like chips of blue ice—“I bet you taste like him, don’t you little rabbit?” That’s all he says before closing the last of the space between us, his lips quickly finding mine.
But his kiss is nothing like Fox’s.
Deacon kisses hard, his movements dominant and his mouth aggressive.
He nips at my lower lip until I gasp, and my hands curl into his as he holds them above me.
When he bites down again, my lips part, and he uses the opening to sweep his tongue around my mouth, tasting every inch of space between my teeth.
“Yeah.” He laughs darkly when he pulls away, seeming satisfied.
“That’s what I thought. Did he kiss you after he brushed your hair?
” Deacon taunts. “I bet he was just so sweet, wasn’t he, Sadie-Rae?
” The way he sneers my name is part arrogance, part something darker and less friendly.
“Oh, but you haven’t seen just how sweet Fox can be. ”
He kisses me again before I can evaluate that statement, and every single thought in my brain focuses on the feeling of his teeth nipping at my mouth, my jaw, and then finally, biting down hard on the side of my neck.
I gasp, going up on tiptoe, trying to create space and get closer all at once. Again my hands jerk in his grip, fingers curling into his, but I don’t make any headway in that endeavor.
Deacon scoffs against my throat and pulls away, his grin a sneer. “Adorable,” he says, though I can’t tell if it’s an insult or a compliment. “Just fucking adorable. Though I still think we should keep you in a kennel until you learn some house manners.”
Without warning, I’m up and over his shoulder, squawking out a protest he ignores. He walks through the kitchen, slowing down for something I can’t see, before his long strides take us right back up the stairs and to the room where I started.
Again.
My blond captor dumps me unceremoniously on the bed, and I whip my head up to glare up at him. He chuckles, one hand coming out to run his fingers through my now tangle-free hair.
“Stay,” he tells me, not very kindly. “Or I’ll do a lot worse than put you in a kennel, Sadie-Rae. I fucking promise you that.” In a quick motion, he tosses me the two apples he apparently stopped for, and a water bottle he fishes out of the pocket of his shorts.
Then, with a quick, still not very friendly smile, Deacon leaves, closing the door behind him without locking it and leaving me with food, water, and tingling lips I can’t help but touch.