Page 126 of The Quiet Witness

“Wound?” He smirked like a wolf. “It’s no more than a cut. And yes, thank you for noticing, sweetheart, I would very much prefer to stare at you all evening.”

Fuck. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Okay big guy, duly noted. Now answer the fucking question.”

“You’re no fun.” Lucien let out an exasperated sigh before adding. “Upper closet, right next to the stove.”

She tore the red kit from it’s hiding place, tearing open the velcro to see what she had to work with. Pulling up a chair beside the reluctant patient, she spread out the necessary equipment on the counter. Taking the wet towel she’d prepared she softly wiped away the blood, exposing the flesh wound.

Contrary to his comment, it wasn’t just a cut, but a deep wound, fresh blood kept leaking through between the wipes. Pouring antiseptic on another blindingly white towel she watched it turn red. He didn’t even flinch with the alcohol pressed to the wound.

An awkward silence had fallen between them, wanting to break it she forced a teasing lilt to her tone. “You’re allowed to make a sound you know, cry if you need to.” It did the job, she smiled as he let out a loud chuckle.

“Cry? Over this? I’ve seen you go through way worse without resorting to tears.”

Surprised, she glanced up to see him still giving her the same look. “Sure, sure tough guy.” She paused… “If I recall correctly, there have been plenty of times where I’ve turned into a very runny mess of a waterfall.”

So much for trying to lighten the mood. Why did he have to keep looking at her like this? As if he couldn’t allow himself to glance away, like he might miss something if he did.

“You’ll have to sew the wound shut.” He announced.

“Wait, what?” It had been in the back of her mind, of course she’d known it would have to be done. But stitching his skin back together was something… else than mending the holes left behind in the clothes of her foster sister.

“I’d try myself but I think it would ruin my charm, you know, ugly scars and all that.” He glanced at the wound. “Not the best of angles to work with really.”

Kate didn’t laugh at his halfhearted joke. “Fine. Where can I find a needle?”

“Same closet in a small black case.”

Slipping off the chair she felt her legs wobble beneath her, successfully getting to the closet she saw it laying there, a case supposed to hold reading glasses, she zipped it open, the sound of which set a spark to her uneasy nerves, lighting them on fire.

I have to sew his mangled flesh back together. No pressure.

Kate tore the alcohol bottle off the counter, generously dunking it over the needle above the sink, the liquid splattered against metal, filling her nose with the smell of disinfection. Taking in deep breaths she rolled the needle over and over. Desperately trying to lighten the shaking of her fingers, but it only made her dizzier.

“It’d be a shame if you passed out from inhaling those gasses, especially since it’s quite clean, sweetheart.”

“Now it is.” She lifted her chin, striding back to her patient with mock assurance.

He was right, though, taking her place on the chair she took several seconds to steady her breathing, filling her lungs with fresh air and giving her digits a final chance to stop trembling.

“It’s alright, Kate, you won’t hurt me remember?” He smiled ruefully. “I don’t feel pain the way you do. In fact, I think this moment warrants the saying… you should see the other guy.”

His words did exactly as he intended. She knew him that much by now, knew that he could play her like he played his piano, knowing which buttons to push to get the reaction he wanted out of her. In this case, anger.

“If your intention is to rile me up, it’s working alright.” Her hands stopped shaking, fear shoved aside by a disgruntled ire.

“Good. I’d hate for it to become another jagged scar.” Lucien shifted on his chair, leaning his elbow on the counter to allow her good access to the wound. He winked at her. “Let’s get to work.”

And she did. The needle moved in and out of his skin, the thin, black wire following each of her movements smoothly.

It’s not skin. It’s just red-colored fabric on a tan background, easy peazy.

Once closed, she sprayed more alcohol on the wound, finishing up her work with a white bandage, successfully sealing the wound from view. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, she’d held on to the anger Lucien had infused her with, letting it clear her eyes in focus. Now, it left her heavy with fatigue.

And with a man who was still looking at her in the same intense way. “Thank you.” There was no more joking lilt to his voice, nothing but a grim solemness as he said. “I mean it.”

Kate merely rolled her shoulders to remove the stiffness of having been in that same position for so long. “Here to help.” Clean you up after you just killed a man. Or a woman.

It should have made her shake her head and back away. If she was a good person she would have left him to his own devices, but there was something… wrong. It wasn’t the injury, Lucien was different, less in control of himself and the look in his eyes, unlike anything she’d seen in them before. Not sharp, not mocking. Like he had lost something… and didn’t know how to get it back.