Chapter 1 #3
I grabbed his hand impulsively, startling us both. No matter how tough a man framed himself on the streets or how many times he was stabbed, the lights and the table made vulnerable fools of us all. “I’ll stay until you’re stable, at least.”
Pale lips fumbled over his words. “You’re a very nice surgeon, Nina.”
“Keep that in mind after this next part.”
I slipped the blade free from his side, pressing hard on the wound with a thick cloth once it was removed. Blood gushed from the incision, but at least it was a clean slice. Neat edges. He was fortunate he hadn’t pulled it free himself on instinct. He wouldn’t have stood a chance.
The gauze was quickly soaked through. I grabbed another pack and added it to the top. “You’re doing great.”
“Do you always praise a man when you’re doing all the work?” His voice was husky from hard breaths.
My voice went low, knowing Bernard could walk in at any moment. “I’m just impressed. Men like you don’t usually last long in my hands.”
Muscles jumped beneath my touch as a barking laugh disturbed the quiet. He flinched, and pain rippled through the length of his jaw. “Damn, that hurt.”
“Sorry. Breathe through it.”
His stomach tensed with a terse laugh. After some of the bleeding waned, I grabbed a bottle of saline solution and cleaned the narrow slice, washing out any filth the knife had left behind before beginning to suture him shut.
“Still with me?” I asked when he’d gone quiet.
“Depends. Is that a needle?”
“Indeed. I just need to close you up, and then you’ll be all done.” The moment I moved a clean hand toward the suture kit, he shifted on the table.
“That’s not necessary. I’m Cursed. I’ll heal quickly on my own.” He reached for the bloody gauze on his side, but I swatted his hand away.
“The time it takes for you to heal, even as a Cursed, is far longer than the time it would take for you to lose a blood volume compatible with life. Let me finish. It’ll be over soon, I promise.”
“Hell,” he murmured, staring at a spot on the ceiling. At the introduction of my suture needle, his complexion went sickly. His eyes fluttered, avoiding my stare and my hands, as if he’d pass out at any moment.
It might be easier if he were unconscious, but I disregarded that idea. “Think on something else. Find a spot on the wall, the tick of a clock, the rhythm of your breath, and focus on that. Let the rest fall away. Can you do that for me?”
He took a long breath, shut his eyes, and nodded. “Yes.”
As soon as I felt him relax, I began stitching his flesh back together with a practiced ease. He remained still, to my pleasant surprise, allowing me to work swiftly. “Whatever you’re locked on, it’s working well for you. I’m halfway done.”
My patient cracked a smile in the corner of my vision, though his eyes remained rested. I was pleased my technique was helping him tolerate the last bit of his treatment. Curious, I asked, “What did you choose to focus on?”
A sigh slipped between us, brushing the edges of my gloves. “Your heartbeat.”
Before I could summon a reply, someone cleared their throat behind me.
I lifted my gaze from the fifth stitch, finding him in the doorway, arms crossed and silver brows pinched.
Bernard’s voice echoed through the quiet surgery.
“If you’re finished charming my apprentice, she has somewhere better to be. ”
I flushed hot, snapping, “Bernard!”
“It’s best I take over from here,” he murmured, finding his own gloves.
“Don’t you dare leave me with him,” my patient whispered.
“Nina,” the surgeon growled. “Do you see how late it is? You need to go!”
As if on cue, the clock chimed five times, and my heart fell into my stomach. Another hour, and the ship would be gone. I sprang from the stool and ripped off another pair of bloody gloves. “He was bleeding across the front desk. I couldn’t just leave him there. Besides, I called for you twice!”
“I was…” He glanced at the man between us. “I was preparing the delivery. Just go clean up, and I’ll finish this.”
The patient groaned.
“I’m sorry,” I told him as I slipped off the smock. “But I promise you Dr. Broussard is the best. He’ll have you out of here in no time.”
Bernard grunted his agreement.
The echo of the clock chime demanded a new urgency to my strides.
I made sure the dice in my pocket were still there to bring to Opal’s later.
For now, I had two dead bodies in a spice cart and barely a minute to change back into my street clothes.
Nothing would be more suspicious than a surgeon’s assistant in a bloody smock, driving a cart with human-sized cargo around the city.
I pressed a hand to the man’s forehead, stroking some of the silver hair from his face. “Good luck, and don’t forget what I said about Opal’s.”
“Don’t forget about that dinner,” he said, a lazy smile lifting one side of his lips. Bernard cleared his throat again, taking my arm and dragging me to the door.
“Be careful, Nina,” he murmured.
“I’m always careful. You’re just losing faith in me, which is ridiculous. Just another simple job.” I winked to ease the tension pinching his features.
“I hope you’re right,” he said with a tight smile. “Enjoy your day off.”