Changing Times
Hands clenched around a book.
Kate sat bundled up under two blankets, knuckles white as her eyes sped over the inked words of her book.
Will they or won’t they kiss?!
Ghost kicked out a paw, smacking her right in the hip.
“Hey!” The dog whipped its head up, blinking furiously.
“You’re messing up my focus here.” She scratched him behind the ears, smiling as he leaned in to the touch.
“Sorry, didn’t know you were asleep.” She returned to reading.
Kicking out her own legs over the couch when the couple in the book separated. Ghost moved away with a dramatic sigh.
And that’s just before the big battle, of course, pfff.
The porch light snapped on, spooking Kate, as she had temporarily forgotten she was in the middle of nowhere, with no one but Lucien’s fierce dog for protection. But if Ghost’s waggling tail was any indication, it was Lucien who’d step through the door in…
One… two… three.
The lock clicked, and the door was flung open, it hit the wall with a crash. Lucien peeked in, his green eyes landing on the hand she held over her heart. “Hey you… sorry. The door kinda fell out of my hands.” He grinned sheepishly, crossing over the threshold. “Didn’t think you’d be up still.”
It’s not like I’ve been waiting for your ass to come through the door.
“Heyyy, yeah I couldn’t sleep.” She raised the book for him to see, watching as he grinned at the title. “What better way to kill time than curse at two fictional characters.”
He dropped his bag beside the kitchen counter. “Couldn’t agree more, miss obsessed with romance.” His voice… the regular dry humor was present, but her eyebrows raised as she took in the slight hunch in his shoulders. Ghost jumped off the couch, nose lifting as he smelled the air.
Off, something is off.
Up in a second, she crossed the room toward him. “Are you alright?”
A metallic tang stopped her in her tracks. Transporting her back not to the foster family lined up at the Christmas table but to Isabel. Shaking off the attack on her senses she whispered, dumbfounded. “You’re bleeding.”
The dark blue t-shirt he was wearing had darkened, only some patches of the actual color remained, and where his short sleeves ended, blood caked to his muscled arm.
Oh, Gods, what has he gotten himself into.
Lucien wandered over to the kitchen counter, reaching over to pull out a chair, but she beat him to it, yanking it out of its place with a screech, he slid into the chair with the same ease as always, all the while she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the darkened cloth.
There was so much blood.
“Don’t worry, not all of it is mine.”
“Don’t worry?!” Her voice rang out in a high pitch but she caught a glimpse of his answering wince. Lowering it for him, she mumbled. “Right, just the words I need.”
He fixed her with a look that told her she was ‘blowing this way out of proportion’.
Ignoring it, she grasped onto the bloody rag that was his t-shirt and pulled it over his head while he heaved a deep sigh at the fussy treatment.
Guess he hoped I was upstairs. Bad luck there.
She scanned his reddened abdomen, but there were no wounds, nothing but a faint sheen of red clinging to his ripped form. Where was all this blood even coming from?
Moving to his back she got the same answer. He hadn’t stumbled in here, that meant his legs were fine. So… only a deep cut across his shoulder. Still oozing scarlet.
Kate felt the weight of his stare on her while she assessed his condition. Not once did she raise her chin to meet it. Terrified of betraying the thoughts racing through her mind.
Because what if he had been shot or stabbed in a place that meant he’d hang between life or death?
Could I even take him to the hospital? It could have worked with me driving the car, would have.
But it meant he’d be questioned, could he weasel his way out from under that?
And, if he… died. It would mean freedom for me…
The question was, if that was still what she wanted, if she still clung to that promise like a child held onto a stuffed toy.
Kate stilled at the realization. But… seconds, she was letting precious seconds pass by.
Her shoulders dropped an inch, letting out a sigh of relief to see that the wound wouldn’t become life threatening.
She strode into the kitchen, opening and closing the cabinets to find the red box, but it was nowhere to be found.
“Where do you keep the first aid kit stashed?”
He didn’t answer, she stopped in her tracks to glance back at him, half expecting to see him slumped over the counter. Instead, his half lidded eyes were still trained on her, tracking her venture through the kitchen. They came to rest on her throat, tracing the movement when she swallowed heavily.
Her hand started fiddling with the hem of her shirt, leaving red traces behind on her pink t-shirt, uncomfortable beneath the intensity of his gaze.
It’s not like him to watch me like this. How could the person who had made her laugh so loudly in the car. Make her feel like prey waiting to be pounced upon?
Kate dropped her hands to her sides. Done, she was done with twiddling her fingers, there were bigger issues at hand, anger flared up in the pit of her stomach.
“Hey!” She snapped her fingers in front of him.
“You wanna stare at me all evening or want me to take care of that wound? What did you even do? Grapple with a lion?”
“Wound?” He smirked like a wolf. “It’s no more than a cut. And yes, thank you for noticing, sweetheart, I would very much prefer to stare at you all evening.”
Fuck. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Okay big guy, duly noted. Now answer the fucking question.”
“You’re no fun.” Lucien let out an exasperated sigh before adding. “Upper closet, right next to the stove.”
She tore the red kit from it’s hiding place, tearing open the velcro to see what she had to work with.
Pulling up a chair beside the reluctant patient, she spread out the necessary equipment on the counter.
Taking the wet towel she’d prepared she softly wiped away the blood, exposing the flesh wound.
Contrary to his comment, it wasn’t just a cut, but a deep wound, fresh blood kept leaking through between the wipes. Pouring antiseptic on another blindingly white towel she watched it turn red. He didn’t even flinch with the alcohol pressed to the wound.
An awkward silence had fallen between them, wanting to break it she forced a teasing lilt to her tone. “You’re allowed to make a sound you know, cry if you need to.” It did the job, she smiled as he let out a loud chuckle.
“Cry? Over this? I’ve seen you go through way worse without resorting to tears.”
Surprised, she glanced up to see him still giving her the same look. “Sure, sure tough guy.” She paused… “If I recall correctly, there have been plenty of times where I’ve turned into a very runny mess of a waterfall.”
So much for trying to lighten the mood. Why did he have to keep looking at her like this? As if he couldn’t allow himself to glance away, like he might miss something if he did.
“You’ll have to sew the wound shut.” He announced.
“Wait, what?” It had been in the back of her mind, of course she’d known it would have to be done. But stitching his skin back together was something… else than mending the holes left behind in the clothes of her foster sister.
“I’d try myself but I think it would ruin my charm, you know, ugly scars and all that.” He glanced at the wound. “Not the best of angles to work with really.”
Kate didn’t laugh at his halfhearted joke. “Fine. Where can I find a needle?”
“Same closet in a small black case.”
Slipping off the chair she felt her legs wobble beneath her, successfully getting to the closet she saw it laying there, a case supposed to hold reading glasses, she zipped it open, the sound of which set a spark to her uneasy nerves, lighting them on fire.
I have to sew his mangled flesh back together. No pressure.
Kate tore the alcohol bottle off the counter, generously dunking it over the needle above the sink, the liquid splattered against metal, filling her nose with the smell of disinfection.
Taking in deep breaths she rolled the needle over and over.
Desperately trying to lighten the shaking of her fingers, but it only made her dizzier.
“It’d be a shame if you passed out from inhaling those gasses, especially since it’s quite clean, sweetheart.”
“Now it is.” She lifted her chin, striding back to her patient with mock assurance.
He was right, though, taking her place on the chair she took several seconds to steady her breathing, filling her lungs with fresh air and giving her digits a final chance to stop trembling.
“It’s alright, Kate, you won’t hurt me remember?” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t feel pain the way you do. In fact, I think this moment warrants the saying… you should see the other guy.”
His words did exactly as he intended. She knew him that much by now, knew that he could play her like he played his piano, knowing which buttons to push to get the reaction he wanted out of her. In this case, anger.
“If your intention is to rile me up, it’s working alright.” Her hands stopped shaking, fear shoved aside by a disgruntled ire.
“Good. I’d hate for it to become another jagged scar.” Lucien shifted on his chair, leaning his elbow on the counter to allow her good access to the wound. He winked at her. “Let’s get to work.”
And she did. The needle moved in and out of his skin, the thin, black wire following each of her movements smoothly.
It’s not skin. It’s just red-colored fabric on a tan background, easy peazy.
Once closed, she sprayed more alcohol on the wound, finishing up her work with a white bandage, successfully sealing the wound from view. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, she’d held on to the anger Lucien had infused her with, letting it clear her eyes in focus. Now, it left her heavy with fatigue.
And with a man who was still looking at her in the same intense way. “Thank you.” There was no more joking lilt to his voice, nothing but a grim solemness as he said. “I mean it.”
Kate merely rolled her shoulders to remove the stiffness of having been in that same position for so long. “Here to help.” Clean you up after you just killed a man. Or a woman.
It should have made her shake her head and back away.
If she was a good person she would have left him to his own devices, but there was something…
wrong. It wasn’t the injury, Lucien was different, less in control of himself and the look in his eyes, unlike anything she’d seen in them before.
Not sharp, not mocking. Like he had lost something… and didn’t know how to get it back.
Maybe she wasn’t a good person. How else could she explain the pull in her chest? The need to close the distance? Her gaze flickered, to his lips, the needle on the counter, back to his lips.
Get up, go to your room and leave him here. He’s still covered in blood for goodness sake. Do it!
But she didn’t. Instead, Kate leaned her weight forward.
Biting nervously into her lips while she lifted her eyes to his, saw the surprise shoot over them before his pupils darkened, just as they had before he’d vanished down the stairs.
It was like he had frozen before her, the only sign of life was the heartbeat pulsing in his neck, faster and faster.
Kate’s hand raised to his cheek and felt the tension wither away beneath her touch.
She leaned in, eyes flickering up to see his were closed, breath hitching, she brushed her lips over his, they trembled beneath hers.
She stilled, waiting for a response, anything to know she wasn’t the only one wanting this.
His hand shot up, cupping her cheek.
“Don’t.”
She shot back in her seat. “Don’t?” Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. Had she misread the signals? But… she’d felt him relax.” Kate couldn’t help it, she blurted out. “Why?”
His eyes snapped open. “You’d hate me for it.”