Page 82 of To Catch a Sub

“How stupid. I forgot that as far as you care, I deserve to be chased and hunted and…” Colette stood, but Landon yanked her back, this time onto his lap.

She sat stiffly on his thigh. “Let me go, Landon.”

“No.” He threaded his hand through her hair, tightening it gently. “No,” he said again.

Colette sagged against his chest.

“Is this why you need to scene?” he asked against her hair. “Because you’ve been holding all this fear and tension about Damien finding you?”

“Knowing you were on the other side of the door is the safest I’ve felt in a long time.” She spoke so quietly he had to lean in, their cheeks brushing, so he could her. “I’ve been able to sleep because you were there.”

Her confession made his heart slam against his ribs as his stomach clenched.

Everything she’d said was probably bullshit. She was probably manipulating him.

Right now he didn’t fucking care.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“Because my super glue and I had it under control.”

He blinked. “You…super glued your cut closed?”

“Yes. That’s what they do in hospitals.”

“For fuck’s sake, Colette. I’m pretty sure they don’t use super glue.” Landon turned, gently tipping her onto the mattress. “You should have gone to a doctor.”

“I was busy.”

Landon rose. “Stay here.”

It took him less than three minutes to gather supplies from the large first aid kit in the small kitchen and return to Colette’s room. She’d changed out of the long t-shirt into a matching tank top and sleep shorts set. The top had a sleeping panda on it, and it was so unlike her usual casually chic look that he stopped.

“Sleepy panda?”

She turned, showing him that there was a matching panda image on the butt of the shorts.

He snorted, though the soft, stretchy material cupped her ass enticingly. Now was not the time for ogling her. This was first aid.

Colette had taken time to change, but there was one thing she hadn’t removed.

She still wore his collar.

“Lie down.”

“Yes, Sir.” The smirk she shot him said that she’d meant the words as a taunt, but they didn’t feel mocking. It felt like she was being a good, obedient sub and letting him take care of her.

Colette stretched out on her side, legs bent. He set the first aid kit and towels down in the space behind her knees and eased the hem of the tank top up.

Colette’s breathing was unsteady as he exposed the length of the cut. It sliced from her ribs down nearly to her hip. He brought the bedside lamp closer so he could see, then put on gloves. He gently cleaned the length of the wound with a pad soaked in sterile water. Small pieces of what he assumed were dried glue flaked off with each pass of the gauze.

He inspected every inch of the wound, his brain unhelpfully picturing what this would have looked like fresh.

“There are a couple of spots that aren’t healed.” He grabbed large sticking plasters and after dabbing on ointment, put the bandages over the areas that looked the most raw. He wasn’t sure if it helped, given that there was probably still a layer of super glue on her skin in those spots.

“I know. They were still bleeding a few days ago.” She twisted to look at him. “There was this asshole at Interpol who kept throwing me against the wall…”

“Fuck.” Landon thumped his forehead against her shoulder. “I’m a fucking asshole.”