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“No, you can’t. You’re getting it all over the tile.” She unfolded one of the bathroom towels and stepped closer to him. “Can you kneel? I’m not tall enough.” Even though she was tall for a woman, standing next to him, she realized she barely reached his shoulders.
He got down on his knees, and she bunched the towel in her hand.
“This will sting.” Before he could protest, she poured the whiskey onto his wounds. He hissed as she patted the excess liquid off his skin.
She looked at his reflection in the mirror. A large purplish-yellow ring hung under one eye. His cheeks looked swollen from where he’d been punched in the face, and the cut on his lip was scabbed over with dried blood. But he was still ruggedly handsome and, in many ways, even beautiful. Part of her hated him for that.
“You should put ice on that. I’ll get some for you.”
He shook his head. “Don’t bother. You don’t need to take care of me.”
“Why not? You took care of me earlier.” She refolded the towel and set it on the counter.
“That was different.”
“How?” she asked as she exited the bathroom.
He followed her into the bedroom but didn’t answer.
“Sit on the bed.” She pointed to the king-size mattress before hurrying into the kitchen to retrieve some ice. She wrapped it in a towel and walked back out to the bedroom.
Jace’s shoulders slumped as he sat down. He placed his hands on his knees and hung his head. Frankie sighed. Just looking at his defeated posture drained all her energy.
She went to his side and knelt in front of him. “Close your eye.”
He did as he was told, and she pressed the makeshift compress onto his shiner. He groaned, and his grip on his knees tightened.
“From the way you’re acting, I’d swear you’d never been punched before.” She smiled.
“Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of beatings throughout my lifetime.”
She shrugged. “Such is the life of a supernatural.”
He opened his one good eye and glared. “I’m not one of you.”
“You are—at least partially. You might have been able to fool those goons we took down back there for a long time, but you can’t fool me. I know an alpha wolf when I see one.”
“I’m no wolf, and I’m no alpha.”
She rolled her eyes and nodded to the compress. “Hold this in place while I get some more ice for the rest of your face.”
He held the compress as she went back to the kitchen. When she returned, she held an unwrapped cold cube against his lip. Despite the cold ice in her hand, her body filled with heat as she thought of his warm mouth running across her thigh. Her finger slipped, and the pad of her thumb rubbed against the smooth skin of his lip.
She glanced away and pulled her hand back. Her cheeks flushed red. “Sorry. I—”
He grabbed her wrist until she slowly raised her gaze to him. “Don’t stop.”
Even after he released her, she fought to keep her breathing even. Lowering her gaze, she tried to think of something to break the silent tension. Anything.
He’s a hunter. He’s a hunter.
She steadied her trembling hand as she tried to soothe his wound again.
“So who were those guys?” she asked, glad to have come up with a logical change in subject. “I know they were hunters, but why hunt one of their own?”
Then again, he hunted his own kind, too, even though he wouldn’t admit it.
“You heard David. They’re from the Brooklyn division. Chet might as well have put a hit out on my head, telling everyone I’m not human. There are certain guys in the organization who will take that personal. See it as a betrayal. Brooklyn probably came up here looking for me to get brownie points with Headquarters and Chet.”
