“I could lick it,” he half chuckles.
“You’re not licking my wounds,” I insist, shaking my head side to side, fighting my body to keep still while the world spins too fast.
“It’d seal them closed, and you’d stop bleeding out in Callie’s backyard,” he counters, turning his head to look at me.
I sigh, then wince because both my back and my stomach hurts. “I’m not bleeding out.”
Nolan sits up, his left arm cradled against his chest, and he glares at me. “Why do you have to make shit difficult?”
“Because I’m an asshole,” I remind him with a tired smirk.
“Yeah well, this is literally the only time you’ll hear me say this, but just lie there and don’t fucking do anything,” he orders, his features pulled tight as he moves into a position near my stomach.
I haven’t looked, but the cuts must be obvious even under all the blood, because he doesn’t have to wipe anything away before his tongue runs along the injury, a welcoming numbing sensation following in his wake.
“Didn’t think it was possible,” he mutters, working his mouth for another pass, “but somehow you’ve found a way to make licking your abs not sexy.”
“Not even a little,” I chuckle then groan, because yeah, still fucking hurts.
“Don’t laugh, you idiot. I’m not done,” Nolan scolds, dropping his mouth back to my skin.
He’s not wrong. We’re covered in blood, dirt and grass. There are literally two corpses about ten feet away that I’m working real hard to forget are there. And I fucking decapitated someone like ten minutes ago. But I also know a challenge when I hear one.
My eyes drift closed and I concentrate on the sensation of his hot breath against my skin, the brush of his tongue slipping along the firm lines of my stomach, and his proximity to my belt. Relaxing into the cold grass, I imagine us somewhere… anywhere but fucking here, and making sure I have the right amount of pressure, I let my hand run up his spine, careful of his shoulder, into his hair, then fist tightly like I can’t get enough of whatever he’s doing.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” he groans, leaning into my hand.
“And?” I purr.
“Fine, it’s still a little sexy,” Nolan concedes, and I release him. Under his breath, he grumbles, “Should have just let you bleed to death.”
Chapter 19
Connor
The winds might have settled, but lightning and thunder still crack across the sky. Curled up against the passenger side door, Callie grips the stone of her necklace, whispering to herself, “Please don’t come true,” over and over again. I managed to pry her cell phone away in case she felt like throwing it again, and it now sits in one of the cup-holders in the central console. The black screen an ominous reminder that there’s no news about the demons, the guys, or Mildred.
They might not even be there yet,I reason, releasing a slow breath. I have to trust my friends can handle themselves.
When Callie told me to take her away, I didn’t think, just drove, and now we’re at the face of a secluded trail marked by a solitary boulder. In the dark, the trail is nearly invisible, the underbrush as dense as the trees, but a mile in, it opens to a small meadow with a ravine. Further down, there’s a pool so deep I can’t touch the bottom. It’s where I come when I need to shift and be alone. It’s my safe place, and subconsciously, I’m hoping that the forest can calm her like it calms me.
“Reina,”I whisper, running a hand along her arm. “We’re here.”
Her troubled eyes look out the window then to me. “So many trees. What if I make it worse?”
“You won’t,” I reply, assuming she means the fire.
She tilts her head to the side and the expression is so wolf-like that a small smile pulls at my lips. “How are you so sure?”
“Faith,” I murmur, and her eyes widen, both of us appreciating what a fragile thing faith is for people like us.
Her gaze drops to her lap and she murmurs, “As much as I appreciate it, past experiences imply that your faith may be misplaced.” She sniffs and rubs at one of her eyes. “Honestly, it feels like everything inside me is breaking, and no matter how tight I try to hold on, it keeps slipping through my fingers.”
Though she’s sitting right next to me, she feels untouchable, caged by the internal battle she’s fighting.
Opening the driver’s side door, I drop one leg to the ground. Hoping to set her free, I encourage, “Then let go.”
More of myreinacomes to the surface, her features frowning in exasperation at my simple solutions. “Letting go tends to lead to things exploding.”
