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He carries me away. “Yeah? Well, you’re stronger, so don’t fall asleep. Okay?”
“Water…monster…”
“The Evercores are adept enough to fight it off. Don’t worry about that.”
“Backpack…first aid…”
Cristen picks up his pace. “Don’t worry. I have a place nearby.”
My face scrunches up as branches whack against my ankles.
“Open those beautiful eyes, princess,” he commands.
They’re closed? But I still see stars…“Princess is sister. Ew,” I grit out.
He snorts, but his panic takes precedence. “Way to ruin that. You’re a pain in the ass even when you’re mildly unconscious.”
“Am not,” I whine.
He lays me down on something soft. Then he taps my cheek lightly. “Look at me, Zora.”
I peel my eyes open.
We’re in a cave. That much, my brain can figure out.
“This is going to hurt,” he warns.
“I don’t get hurt — oh motherfuck!” I screech as he pours alcohol over my wound.
He presses a hand to my chest as I try to buck upward. “I have to clean it so I can see how bad it is.”
“Stitches,” I manage.
“Stitches,” he agrees.
“Put blade in fire,” I suggest.
He shakes his head. “Is that what you did to your arm?”
I shrug but regret the movement as it pulls in all the worst places. “No thread. No needle.”
“Well, I have those.” He shows me the needle. It glints off the cave’s dim lighting. “Here.”
He thrusts a balled-up scrap of fabric into my mouth.
Logic vanishes. “Kinky,” I say, my voice muffled behind the cloth.
He lifts a brow. “What?”
“KINKY,” I try again. Really, it sounds like, “KUH-KUH.”
He stabs me with the needle.
I bite down on the cloth with a whimper.
He’s quick, obviously well-versed in the art of stitching.
I guess he would be, having a father who maimed him as a boy.
