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“This isn’t Vorx’s first hellhound injury. We both carry scars from them. Yes, he is hurt badly and in pain, but I know he will heal. I am more worried that your feelings of self-blame will drive you to want to leave. That is what Vorx and I fear most.”
With that, he walked away.
I slowly shut the bathroom door and looked at my clothing options. Wear the see-through shirt and thong or a nice, white t-shirt that would cover me? Two minutes ago, the choice was simple. Now, not so much.
What Turik had said ran through my head. If Vorx was really in that much pain, would dressing in the “sex clothes,” as Turik put it, really distract him from it? I highly doubted it. But it would show them both then I was invested in staying here. That I was trying to purge my guilt over what had happened.
I rolled my eyes and gave myself a hard look.
“Call it what it is, Shelby,” I whispered.
Yes, I owed Turik and Vorx for their efforts in keeping me safe. Knocking out Nat and his men, giving me a place to stay, and protecting me from the infected and hellhound absolutely indebted me to them. But not enough that I’d feel the need to parade around them naked out of some sense of obligation.
Unless I wanted to do it.
A flush brightened my face as I folded the white shirt and picked up the thong. I didn’t possess an ounce of body shame. There was no point in it. Tits were tits. Legs were legs. And an ass was an ass. It didn’t matter what shape they came in. Men liked them small and firm or large and slightly saggy. The right man would want me just the way I was. I’d known that long before I ever met Nat.
And because of Nat, this also wouldn’t be the first time I wore skimpy clothes around men. Although, this time, it was my choice.
Both the thong and top fit me well enough. However, the thin yellow material “covering” my breasts did little to hide any detail. My nipples were clearly visible, as were the bruises decorating my torso. At least the color of the shirt camouflaged the fading ones on my breasts.
Wearing this wouldn’t likely be the type of distraction Turik was hoping for.
I was still frowning at the mirror when I heard voices downstairs. Opening the door, I listened to Turik.
“I will help him to his bed. Thank you, Kerr.”
The outer door shut as I made my way to the living room. Both Vorx and Turik stopped their joint progress across the space to stare at me, but I barely registered their shocked and awe-filled gazes. Mine locked on the web of stitches covering Vorx’s right side and the large square of gauze covering his outer left thigh.
He leaned on Turik with his left arm around Turik’s shoulder for support.
“Does it hurt?” I asked, hurrying to his other side to help. Not that I tried lifting that arm since that was the side with the stitches over his ribs.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said, lifting his gaze from my breasts to my eyes.
“I promise your pain is far greater than any discomfort I feel. Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to turn down the covers for you?”
“Yes.”
I started to hurry away.
“Wait,” he called.
Glancing over my shoulder, I caught them both staring at my ass. Their ears were dark grey, and there might have been a twitch in Vorx’s athletic shorts when he rasped, “Slower.”
Swallowing a snort, I rolled my eyes at him then looked at Turik. His gaze was just as full of hunger.
“Looks like you were right,” I said.
“I’m always right.”
Vorx laughed then grunted. I knew it was in pain, but nothing else in his body language hinted at it.
“Vorx needs rest and something to eat,” Turik said. “Perhaps you can stay with him while I make dinner.”
I nodded and continued to Vorx’s room, pulling back the covers so Turik could help settle Vorx in bed. Vorx winced often, but his gaze kept returning to me where I stood on the other side of his bed, and he never complained. As soon as Vorx was settled, Turik left.
“Do you want another pillow behind you so you’re sitting up more, or would you rather sleep for a bit?”
