The sight of it has my vision swimming with the same shade of red.
Clutching Drae’s arm, I grind out, “What did youdoto her?”
He shoots me an icy glare, his voice turning as cold as his eyes. “Out of my way before you do or say something you’ll regret.”
“Not until you—”
“FuckingJude!” he snaps, his composure finally shattering. “Wait for me in the study. I’ll deal with you after I deal with her.”
“The fuck you will.” Ignoring his demands, I follow him upstairs to one of the guest rooms. “You lot were supposed to be at a wedding downtown. Explain to me how this girl ended up bleeding and passed out in your arms.”
In a low, menacing voice, he says, “I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m pissed off because one of my men abandoned me tonight with neither explanation nor cause. And now, as you’ve so astutely pointed out, I’ve got an injured woman passed out in my arms. So you can either calm yourself and help me tend to her, or get the fuck out of my sight.”
My hands curl into fists, claws stabbing my palms, but before I can tear out his throat and bathe in a spray of his blood, my little scarecrow whimpers.
Doesn’t open her eyes, though.
Drae lets out a heavy sigh, and I nod, my anger draining away.
I draw back the sheets and help him get her situated in bed, her hair fanning out across the pillow. It’s done up in braids tonight, but there’s no mistaking those black-and-silver locks.
A fierce wave of protectiveness grips my heart, the force of it nearly stealing my breath.
What the hell happened to you, scarecrow?
“There should be a First-Aid kit in the guest bathroom,” Drae says softly, lifting her wounded hand and unwrapping the makeshift bandage. “Find it and bring it here, please.”
I do as he asks, then watch as he cleans and dresses a nasty gash on her hand. I’m damn near crawling out of my skin with worry and rage, but I leave him to it. I can’t distract him now. I won’t. Not while he’s taking care of her.
He tapes a clean bandage into place, then sets her hand on her chest, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
She looks so young and vulnerable and…fuck. It’s all I can do not to explode.
“Drae.”
Nothing.
“Draegan.”
Still standing at her bedside, he finally glances over at me.
I take a deep breath. Swallow hard. “What. Thefuck. Happened?”
Drae stalks toward me, his jaw clenched tight. “Where were you tonight? I asked you to—”
“For fuck’s sake! I know this fucking girl, okay? I know her!”
His eyes widen a fraction, the only hint of surprise he shows.
“Downstairs.” He jerks his head toward the door. “Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what—”
“Jude. The poor girl’s been through enough tonight.” He wraps a hand around the back of my neck, steering me out the door. “She doesn’t need to witness a gargoyle death match. Agreed?”
He gives my neck a squeeze—a peace offering—and I nod.
He’s right. Fuck, he’s always right. Always the fucking voice of reason that manages to break through my bullshit and defuse the bomb just before it detonates.
