Chapter 22 #2
Then without hesitation, he reaches for a broken brick lying nearby and holds his jaw shut. He brings it down with a sickening crack against the man’s head. Blood spatters, and his body goes limp, slumping to the ground in a lifeless heap.
There’s zero hesitation in his eyes. Zero remorse. Theo Carter just killed a man. For me.
A heavy breath leaves my mouth. Theo finally looks at me, his eyes softening immediately. “Holly, are you all right?” He rushes to my side to help me up.
I flinch before I can stop myself.
Theo freezes mid-step. Slowly, he raises his hands, palms open, like he’s coaxing a stray cat to trust him. “May I?” His voice is barely above a whisper.
I swallow hard. Pain shoots up my thigh, sharp and biting, and I wince, biting back a curse.
He doesn’t wait for an answer this time. He steps in, his arms looping firmly but carefully around my waist. His hold is steady, deliberate, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing, adjusting so the injured side of my leg is away from his body.
The gesture is automatically protective.
I see the tight line of his jaw as he sets me down for only a moment, shrugging his coat off my shoulders, spreading it over the dusty, jagged surface of the operating table.
He picks me up again and gently seats me on the makeshift cushion, his fingers brushing my arm briefly as he steadies me.
“I’m going to need to have a look at your thigh.” He kneels in front of me, lifting my leg carefully and resting it on his shoulder, then looks up, silently asking for consent.
Behind him, the dead body twitches on the floor, blood pooling from its shattered skull.
I nod.
Face covered in blood, Theo unzips my left boot, sliding it off carefully and placing it to the side. “Okay, so it isn’t very deep. No sutures needed. But I do need to stop the bleeding.”
With what?
He reaches for the dangling part of his coat and rips a clean strip from the lining.
Oh.
“This might hurt a bit.” He takes my hand and threads it gently through the top of his curls. “Pull if it gets too much, yeah?”
My eyes widen, and I open my mouth to protest, but he just smirks. “It’s all right, love. I like it.”
Before I can even process what he just said, he gets to work, wrapping the strip of cloth tightly around my thigh.
The sting hits instantly — sharp and unforgiving.
It burns like hell. I tug on his hair, my fingers gripping harder than I mean to.
Theo groans, low and deep, but the sound doesn’t carry even a hint of pain.
His movements are methodical. Each pull of the cloth feels like it’s setting my skin on fire, but soon the sharp sting fades into a dull, throbbing ache.
I keep glancing at the corpse to distract myself.
The man’s skull is caved in. Blood seeps thick and slow from the wound, mixing with the gray matter oozing from the gash.
His fingers are severed at the knuckles, the exposed tendons curling inward like dying worms.
Theo ties a secure knot just above my wound, stabilizing the pressure. “There we go. All done.” He presses a quick kiss to my knee before slipping my boot back on and lowering my leg. Then he stands and offers me a bloodied hand. “Carry you to the car?”
I respond with three quick smacks to his shoulder. “What. The hell. Is wrong with you?!”
“Ow, ow, ow! What did I do this time?”
I push myself off the operating table and shove him back against the wall. “I told you not to follow me inside!”
He keeps rubbing his shoulder, staring at me like I’ve gone insane. “Can we at least wait until I’ve cleaned another man’s blood off my face before you start yelling at me?”
“I was supposed to do this alone!”
“He was going to kill you.” Theo points to the body to my right.
“I was handling it!”
His eyes trail over my legs. “Fuck, those boots really take the sting out of getting yelled at.”
I punch his arm.
He looks back up. “Ow.”
“I was handling it.”
“Yeah? How? By choking to death?” His voice sharpens, frustration bleeding through.
“He asked me to come alone.”
Theo’s jaw tightens. “He was going to kill you, Holly.”
“And what if he fucking killed you?!” The words come out louder than I mean, echoing off the cold, crumbling walls.
Theo freezes, silent for a moment. His expression softens — less anger, more something else. Shock, maybe. Like he’s surprised that that is the reason for my outburst. So am I.
“What if he wasn’t alone? What if he…what if he had a gun? What if he bashed your skull instead…why the fuck are you smiling?”
A slow, infuriating grin spreads across his bloodied face. “You’re worried about me.”
“Excuse me?”
He tips his chin down and chuckles under his breath, the sound low and maddening.
“Theo, I swear to God, if you don’t stop laughing right now, I’ll —”
“Kill me?” He cuts me off. He pulls my scalpel out of his pocket and flips it, the handle cool and firm against my palm as he wraps my hand around it. “Do it,” he murmurs, guiding the blade to his throat.
My pulse stutters. “What —”
“Do it,” he repeats, his voice much darker now. His free hand moves to the back of my neck, gripping it tightly. I feel the sticky warmth of the other man’s blood against my skin. Heat pools between my legs.
His hand over mine tightens, forcing the scalpel closer to his skin.
“What’s the matter, Hollister?” The blood streaking his face makes the crazed look in his eyes even crazier.
“Isn’t this what you wanted? Or do your words ring hollow now?
Would you like some help?” He pulls the scalpel closer, guiding the tip to the soft skin beneath his mandible.
The pressure is just enough to pierce the surface.
A thin line of red wells up, vivid against his pale neck, before sliding in a slow, deliberate path down toward his collarbone.
He scoffs. “For someone who says she isn’t worried about me, you sure are trembling, my love.”
My nostrils flare as I meet his gaze again. “Is that what this is about? Fine, I’m worried about you. There. Satisfied?”
His lips curl. His hand moves, wrapping firmly around the front of my throat, his thumb pressing against the frantic pulse in my neck. “Satisfaction isn’t in my nature.”
My lips part, a shaky breath escaping as I try to keep control, try to keep my emotions buried where they belong.
I should not be enjoying this. Not like this.
Not when there’s a literal dead body less than five feet away from us, Theo’s injured, so am I, but all I can think about is the blood on his neck and how badly I want to lean in and drag my tongue along that crimson trail.
“I don’t care if you told me not to follow you inside,” he continues.
His hand slides up to my jaw, tipping my chin up, and I gasp, my breath hitching.
“You are mine. And there hasn’t been a single moment when I wasn’t yours.
Call it obsession, madness — I don’t give a flying fuck.
” His forehead presses against mine, his breath warm and uneven against my skin. “You go, I go. That’s how this works.”
I’m drowning in the intensity of his words. His touch. “You killed someone,” I manage to whisper.
He hums in response, the sound low and resonant, brushing against my ear like a caress. “Did I make you proud?”
This man is insane. My chest heaves as I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my ears. Why do I like it so much?
“Is that what you’re worried about, love? That I can’t handle taking another man’s life?”
I nod, barely moving, my eyes sliding shut as the tension between us grows unbearable.
“Baby, I don’t think I killed him hard enough.
” His grip on my chin tightens. “You can bite me, bruise me, stab me any day of the week. But if you think for even a second that I’m going to let some slimy fucking bastard put his hands on you — hurt you?
Then you have another think coming. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Holly.
You’re all mine. Mine to stalk, mine to piss off, and mine to touch.
All fucking mine. And I protect what’s mine —”
It takes over, some kind of primal urge to shut him up before he says something he regrets. A need that pushes every logical thought away. With the scalpel still firm under his jaw, I lean forward and press my mouth to his.