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Even in the darkness, I can tell Chelsea and Pete are gone. How long was I unconscious?
“Open the door, Addie.”
He sounds different. Something’s wrong. He could break into my room if he wanted to but doesn’t. I shove down the blankets and race to the door, unlocking the knob with shaking hands. “Titan? What’s going on?”
The hallway lights shine on him as he stumbles into my room, bathed in blood. So much blood. Holy shit. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“We got ambushed. Doc’s doing surgery on Baxter so…”
His legs crumple, and he staggers toward me. Too heavy for me to support, he drags me down to the carpet with him.
“Sorry.”
He grits his teeth as he rolls over. I scramble to my knees to see where the flow is coming from. I rub my hands across his chest and down his arms. Nothing’s torn or ripped. He doesn’t flinch from my search.
I check his head. A deep cut slices his scalp. “Hold on. Let me get some towels.”
Trembling overtakes me as I fly to the bathroom and grab washcloths, running them under hot water. I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do or not, but I have to try. I grab dry towels too and spin around from the crash behind me. He’s on his feet but demolished the gorgeous flowers he gave me.
“Fuck!”
“It’s fine. Let me help you.”
He lurches inside the bathroom with me. The space seemed gigantic when I was alone. With his huge frame in here, we’re squeezed tight.
Burgundy drenches his black hair and smears across his grimaced face. My chest aches from the image of him so battered. Right or wrong, I love this man and his agony kills me. “Get in the shower. I can rinse you off and see how bad it is.”
With a groggy nod, he hobbles toward the tile and shuffles to the bench. Thank goodness. I don’t think I could get him up if he collapsed.
I twist the handle, and we’re instantly drenched with hot water. I gather my hair and tuck the ponytail inside the back of my soaked shirt to keep the strands out of the way so I can work.
Dazed eyes watch me as I pull down the nozzle and step toward him. “Did you take something?”
“Doc gave me a pain killer so he could stitch me up, but Baxter’s worse, so I made him work on him first.”
The slurred words reveal more than he intends. As much as he’s an asshole, he’s also a good person to those he cares about. Most of the time anyway.
His massive hands clutch my hips as I rinse off his head. He doesn’t complain about his ruined clothes or the bloody streams pouring down his face. He just holds me tight while I alternate between deluging him with water and pressing towels against the wound to stem the flow from the pressure.
After a few minutes, the gushing slows to a trickle but doesn’t stop completely. “You really are going to need stitches.”
“Okay.”
The single word he utters is the most agreeable I’ve ever heard him. “I’ll go get—”
“No!”
Damp fingers pinch my skin through my soaked shorts from him squeezing me so hard.
“Don’t leave.”
Vulnerability I’m not used to hearing from him seeps into his tone. I cup his cheeks and meet his bleary gaze. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
His head falls forward to my breasts and red slowly saturates the damp fabric. I caress over his thick hair. I want to mean for tonight. Deep down I’m not sure if that’s true anymore. How can I leave him when he needs me? When I need him?
A hard knock sounds through the steamy air. Somehow Titan’s on his feet with me smashed between him and the wall, and his arm raised, gun aimed at the door. I’m not sure what happened and don’t feel him relax until I hear a familiar voice.
“Baxter’s stable. Let me examine you.”
