AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You don’t mind, do you?” I ask, as I’m about to take off the shirt. “I need to put on a fresh bandage.”
He shakes his head and looks away when I pull the wet shirt over my head.
I could do all of this in the bathroom. I’m well aware of that.
Considering how uncomfortable he made me earlier I figure this is payback.
“Can you bin this, or whatever?” I ask, handing him the bloody shirt.
He looks back at me and his eyes widen.
I shrug. “This is what eighteen stab wounds on a midsection looks like. This one just keeps bleeding. My doctor told me that happens sometimes. Not all wounds heal the same way, or whatever.”
“Some of them can take longer to heal,” he says, basically repeating the doctor’s exact words.
“Well, this is one of those,” I point out, ready to go clean it up in the bathroom.
“Sit down,” he says. “We have supplies in the kitchen.”
He turns around and heads that way before I can protest.
I take a seat on the couch, looking around the dimly lit room while I wait.
It’s a nice apartment, and it seems pretty clean and tidy. I don’t know if it’s what I expected, but it’s a lot bigger than the tiny place I’m renting. It’s probably easier to get a bigger place when you have partners, but if Echo’s been with E.A. and Spencer for a decade, and Toshi only got here a few years ago, I’m guessing this apartment belongs to the two Alphas.
E.A. comes back into the living room with a first aid kit in his hands.
He pauses for a second before he kneels in front of me and sets the box down on the hardwood floor. I move forward a little and straighten so he can see the wound properly.
“I’m guessing you were asked to rest until this healed?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Great guess,” I tell him.
“And here you are doing everything but rest,” he mutters, shaking his head.
“You tell me who can afford to rest for weeks for a stubborn wound to heal. I already depleted half my savings letting all of these repair.” I wave a hand up and down over my torso.
The scars are ugly. Bright slashes of practically neon pink against my pale skin.
The one that hasn’t healed looks messy. I really should have bandaged it after my shower.
“This might sting a little,” E.A. warns me, before he puts a dampened cotton pad against my skin, cleaning the dried blood off a little at a time, being gentle and not getting too close to the gash.
“It doesn’t … Ooh wait, yeah, that stings.” I wince and he takes the pad away, getting another.
“Sorry, but you don’t want an infection,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.
He starts wiping again and I let out a soft sigh.
“Does anyone ever tell you your bedside manner could use work?”
He smiles briefly. “Not in quite so many words, usually.”
“So, usually they just curse at you?”
“Sometimes,” he admits. “Echo worries when he can’t feel my emotions. I don’t always feel things. I’m probably a sociopath. That’s Echo’s diagnosis. I never thought about it before he came along. I knew I was different. It’s not hard to tell when other people are always telling you you’re wrong about everything.”
“So, you’re not emotional often?” I ask, knowing he must feel things some of the time.
