For several minutes there was nothing but the softplink, plinkof fragments of glass dropping to the table. Loren watched his face to distract herself from what his hands were doing.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Darien kept working as if he hadn’t heard her, but she knew he was listening. “I probably should’ve asked you how you felt before I insisted that you do this. It’s just that—” She swallowed. “I guess I’d rather have as few people see me like this as possible.”
Plink, plink.“She’s not going to judge you.” Darien pushed up her sleeve and gently twisted her arm far enough to see the wounds near her elbow. Loren tried not to wince as he picked more glass out with the tweezers. He looked up at her from under eyelashes that were so dark, they made his eyes look like they were lined with kohl. “And I don’t mind, Loren. I was more concerned about whether it would botheryou.”
She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze for a reason she couldn’t quite place. When he was finished with her left arm, he moved onto the other. There were several cuts that were deep enough to need stitches; for this, Loren didn’t bother trying to keep her eyes open. The prick of the needle and the pull of the thread was enough to make the ground rotate beneath her.
When he was finished with her arms and shoulders, it was time to move onto her legs. “Speaking of being bothered…,” he said, as he reached down to hook a hand around her bare ankle. He paused and looked up at her. “Are you sure you’re fine with this?”
She nodded, a whole different feeling than nausea in her stomach now. The ankle his hand was cupping felt like it had lit on fire—but a different fire than the fire of her wounds. Perhaps she should’ve taken Ivy up on her offer.
But Darien was already lifting her foot to rest it upon his knee and set about extracting the glass from her shin and calf muscles. She knew it was her fault that he wasn’t asking her to stand; he could probably tell that if she got out of this chair, she would faint. She tried not to think about how he could see right up her skirt as he took care of the wounds below the torn hem of it.
After that, he made her check underneath her shirt on her own. Luckily, the only glass beneath the fabric came free with a brushing of her own fingertips. There were no wounds that needed medical attention, so she pulled her shirt back down after a couple minutes in which Darien had busied himself with cleaning up the pile of bloody glass fragments.
It wasn’t until she was completely covered by her shirt again that he turned to look at her. “All good?”
She nodded, and he rolled the stool back over to where she sat, bracing his legs on either side of her own again. He applied some sticky, amber-colored liquid to her wounds with an instrument that looked vaguely like a cotton swab.
“I apologize if I’ve been an ass lately,” Darien said, taping gauze over the areas that needed the most attention. “It’s no excuse, but I’m not used to being in the company of humans.”
Loren blinked. “I thoughtIwas the one givingyoua hard time,” she said. She closed her eyes again as he smoothed down another piece of gauze. It was easier to talk to him if she couldn’t see him.
He gave a soft laugh. “Hardly. If you’d really like to know, I enjoy our little arguments. Having you test my patience is one of my favorite pastimes.” As he leaned back to examine his work, Loren opened her eyes. Satisfied with whatever he saw there, he gave the hand she had resting on her knee a comforting pat. “All done.” The heat from his hand lingered long after he’d let go.
He got up and strode to the counter, where he rummaged around in a drawer until he found a bottle of painkillers and a sleeve of plastic cups. After filling one with water from the sink, he passed her the cup and painkillers and ordered her to take two pills. She didn’t hesitate, though her throat was so tight from emotion that it hurt to swallow them.
Darien cleaned up as swiftly as he did everything else, the smell of disinfectant sharp in Loren’s nose. The events of the evening, coupled with everything that had happened since Sabrine was abducted, began to set in. Tears rolled down her face as she stared at a chip in the floor.
She wasn’t sure how long Darien had been watching her for when he spoke. “I heard there’s this thing called a hug.” He threw aside the towel he was drying his hands with. “I’m not much of a hugger, but…” He shrugged. “It might help.”
Despite the tears rolling down her face, she laughed. He gave her a smile, as soft as his gaze, and held his arms out in invitation.
Loren got to her feet, her knees wobbling with a different kind of weakness. She stepped forward and into his strong arms, and he took her in gently, like flower petals closing at sunset. The warmth from his body spread through her and right to her heart, calming her instantly.
It took her longer than it should have to find a place for her own arms. But she finally closed them around his upper back and rested her face against his chest.
“You’re good at this,” she mumbled into his shirt with a breathy laugh. “I mean, for someone who never hugs.”
“Mmm,” he murmured in agreement, his smooth breathing ruffling her hair. “Your heartbeat is slowing.”
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that. It could’ve been seconds or minutes, but Loren found her eyelids slipping shut. With his arms around her, everything felt lighter. She felt safe in his grasp, like his strength was keeping the shattered pieces of herself together. The sound of Darien’s steady heartbeat in her ear was the only thing that existed for those seconds or minutes, and she realized she didn’t want to move. Never mind that he smelled so good, she could’ve breathed him in for ages and never grown tired of it. Her face reddened at the thought, the heat spreading all the way down to her chest, as reality began to set in.
The sound of the door opening at the top of the stairs broke her and Darien apart.
There was a commotion as the other Devils stomped down those stairs. Darien stepped away from Loren, taking with him the warmth of the quiet moment they’d shared.
Maximus, Tanner, and Travis appeared, carrying the screaming dark-haired Xander whose wings were riddled with silver-blackened wounds.
Maximus kept the twin’s neck in a tight grip. “Where do you want him, Dare?”
Darien jerked his head in the direction of a narrow corridor to his left. “Last room.”
Jack, Ivyana, and Lace came down the stairs a moment later as the other three towed Xander in the direction Darien had indicated.
Jack was grinning, a silver stake in one tattooed hand. “It’s gonna be a great night, boys and girls.” He disappeared down the corridor after the others, Ivyana following behind him.
Only Lace lingered, eyeing up Loren with a bitterness she didn’t bother to conceal. “Are you coming?” she asked Darien.
