Page 37

“I’m fine. I was just rinsing it, and the water was too warm,” she says, clutching her arm to her chest.

The small act of defiance brings a spark back to her glassy eyes. The same one I’ve come to see in my dreams. Sucking in her pillowy bottom lip, she traps it between her teeth.

“Of course you are. That doesn’t mean it isn’t hard to rinse your own hand when it’s wounded.”

Her eyes narrow as she looks down at the water. Her shoulders slump before she ungracefully throws her arm out, nearly hitting me in the chest. Taking her wrist, I gently peel back her sleeve. The cut is deep but won’t leave any long-lasting damage.

Turning the faucet handle, I adjust the water until it runs cool. Taking her petite palm in my hand, I ease it under the running water. After a few seconds, she relaxes, letting the water run along the wound. I wait for her to flinch as I massage soap into the wound, but her expression remains intrigued. As if she sees a puzzle in the wound that needs solving. When I wrap her hand in a towel, she snatches it back against her chest without hesitation.

“Do you have a medical kit?”

Looking up at me through her lashes, she nods. As she turns to leave the room, a lump forms in my stomach.

“I can get it, just sit down for a little bit.”

She stops on her heel and turns, pinning me with a glare. My mind scrambles for something clever to say. Something that might bring that spark back into her eyes. My gaze drifts to where my fingers still rest on the counter.

The bacteria garden.

Oh, she’d hate that. Actually, that might work.

I take a step toward her, but her glare shifts into a predatory smile. Indecision freezes me in place, unable to decide whether fight or flight would serve me better. Patience walks past me and moves to the cabinets along the wall, pulling something down from a shelf. She takes a few steps forward, hiding the item in her hand.

“Your tea. Enjoy.”

Her eyebrows give a sarcastic bounce as she shoves a metal tin into my hand. Then, with a vicious smirk, she storms through the kitchen. Once her footsteps sound on the stairs, I look at the tin. A thick layer of dust coats the top of the black box. Unable to make out the label, I run the pad of my thumb through the dust, revealing a glittering pink skull with crossbones. Rolling my eyes, I set it on the counter. My hands fall to the edge of the island as a sigh leaves me. Perfect.

“Introduce yourself to Gerald while I clean up!” she calls out.

Gerald? Who the fuck is Gerald? And why is he in this house?

A door closes upstairs before the sound of a shower turns on. The running water acts like a beacon to my frustrated cock. Images of her naked body play in my mind with perfect clarity—water rivulets clinging to her perfect skin. Groaning, I adjust myself as my cock strains against the zipper of my pants. My feet carry me to the landing of the stairs without thinking. Standing at the bottom of her staircase with a hard-on is one of the least creepy things I’ve done since meeting this woman.

Sighing, I lean against the railing. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Scraping against wood pulls my attention toward the end of the hall. A streak of white darts past. A second later, it shoots by in the opposite direction. Then, in one final blur, the creature skids to a stop at the end of the hallway.

A fluffy white rodent with big black eyes squeaks up at me.

I arch a brow. “Gerald, I presume.”

The white ball skitters toward me at a slow pace. Apparently, he’s as apprehensive of me as I am of him. When he finally comes within reach, I kneel and hold out my hand. His nose twitches as he assesses my scent. With a flick of his tail, he dips his head into my fingers. His thick satin coat slides beneath my hand as I stroke along his back.

I’ll probably regret this later when I search what diseases his kind carry, but for now, it’s not so bad.

15

Isink onto my knees and let the water flow over me. It’s been years since I’ve had that kind of reaction. Not since I was a child. I thought I had overcome my issue with warehouses. All it took was me cutting my hand on the stupid metal shelf, and everything came flooding back. The metal storage container. The chains across the cages that rattled with every movement. The smell of human feces. The scent of iron from blood pooled throughout the container. Three months in that container with Zarya and Litza as my only company. All of us frozen in fear, having to whisper, praying we wouldn’t get a ‘lesson’ that day. Until Father found us anyway.

Today was such a stupid mistake. Then Ethan plays the knight in steam-pressed armor. Driving me home. Ridiculous, by the way. I was fully capable of driving myself. I nearly hit him…I think. I mean, I’m pretty sure I almost hit him. I definitely thought about it. All it took was one look at those brilliant blue eyes of his, and the sparkle they took on and I was mesmerized. Stupid.

Now, the man is in my house. In my kitchen. Washing my wounds. Asking for tea.

Groaning, I sit back. Maybe, he’ll leave. I reach for the shampoo on the edge of the tub, and my hand pauses as my eyes snag on my razor. This isn’t an everything shower. Or should it be?

Thoughts of Ethan flood my mind—most of them involving no clothes. I’m going to say I didn’t see the bulge of his cock as I handed him the tea. No. Now is not the time for that.

I need to get him out of my house.