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She was so pale.
Hunter started for the front door, but Bill reappeared and gestured for him to walk around to the back of the house. They moved past the porch and down the grassy slope to where the terrain turned to sand.
“Put her in the sand,” Bill said, pointing. “Get her close to the water. I’ll get some logs.”
Hunter sat in the sand with her, holding her against him. He was beginning to think this was stupid, that he should have taken her to the ER anyway, but then the wind kicked up to swirl around them and the tide crawled up the shore to lick at Kate’s feet. Heat from the sun poured down, warming his skin and filling the air with power.
Casper rolled in the sand beside him, basking in it.
No, this had been the right decision. Hunter felt it now.
He pulled at the power, begging for more, begging it to heal her, hoping it would be enough.
“Careful,” said Bill behind him. “Don’t try to force it. The elements are willing; let them work.” He dropped some logs in the sand beside them, then some blankets and sleeping bags. “Get her pants off. I’ll start a fire.”
Hunter just stared at him.
Bill was arranging the logs into a pile and tucking dried brush between them. “Do you want me to take her pants off?” He glanced over. “We need to see how deep that wound is. She might need stitches.”
Hunter had to clear his throat. “I—can you lay out a sleeping bag for her?”
“She’ll do better directly on the sand. Come on, kid, you’ve never undressed a girl before?”
Um. No. Hunter shook himself and laid her down on the sand.
A few hours ago, she’d looked like the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
Now she was so pale, half soaked in blood. The copper scent stung his nose. That stole any hesitation he might have had. He unbuttoned her jeans and undid the zipper.
That hesitation was back. His breathing felt shallow.
God, she was practically dying in front of him, and he couldn’t pull her pants off.
Then Bill was beside him. He had a knife in his hand, and he ripped her jeans straight down from the waistband before Hunter could even think to stop him.
Hunter got a good look at the torn flesh along her hip, and he lost any thoughts of seeing her naked; instead, he almost lost himself to worry.
She’d been right—the bullet had just grazed her, but it had taken a lot of skin with it.
Bill whistled through his teeth. “She’s lucky. Lots of arteries in the leg, but you’d never have made it here if one of those had been hit. Let me get my suture kit.”
“Your suture kit? But—you can’t—”
“Did you want my help or not? There isn’t much difference between stitching up a wild animal and a human being.” He paused. “You can’t leave it all to the elements, Hunter. It’ll take days.”
“Can we use power to heal her?”
“I’m assuming someone is after you?”
“Yeah.”
Bill nodded. “I don’t want a lot of power in the air.”
So Hunter watched while Bill treated the wound, sprayed it with some kind of topical anesthetic, and then began to thread the flesh of her hip back together. For the moment, that’s all his brain could focus on, the steady slip and pull of thread through skin. It should have been horrifying, but he’d been through enough horror in the last week. This was almost hypnotizing, especially with a fire crackling behind them.
“I think you’ve got a lot to tell me,” said Bill.
Hunter shook his head. “I can’t piece it all together.”
