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“Tell me how to get your mind off of this,” he said.
I eyed him. “See that paper towel dispenser?”
He looked at the shiny metal thing. “Yeah?”
“Rip it off the wall and knock me unconscious with it.”
The playful lines around his eyes smoothed out.
“The sedative should help,” I said.
“It’ll help with the shaking, but you still need to get your mind off of this.” His voice was deep and soothing.
The tight knot in my chest began to loosen, and a comforting warmth spread through me.
Thank you, pharmaceuticals.
“I told you, you could leave,” I said.
“Am I making you more anxious by staying?”
The warmth continued to seep through my blood, spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes, my muscles slowly turning into goo.
“No.” Oddly, I didn’t hate having him here as much as I assumed I would. Maybe it was the drugs. “But I don’t want to barf in front of you.”
Hunter’s lips lifted in the corners. “I don’t care if you throw up in front of me, Luna.”
“Well, I do. We’re adversaries in the courtroom, and we’re basically strangers. I don’t like puking in front of strangers.”
“We’re not strangers.”
“I know almost nothing about you,” I said.
Hunter’s gaze locked on to mine, unwavering and intense, as if searching for something beneath the surface.
“Maybe I’d like you to,” he said.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face with his thumb, his touch gentle yet electric, sending sparks up my skin that spread throughout my body.
“I can see the medicine is helping.” Jennifer’s voice shattered the bubble Hunter and I were in, jolting me back to the sterile room.
It took me a moment to refocus my attention on what she was about to do.
The meds were helping my muscles liquefy, but now that I’d broken free from Hunter’s powerful stare, a flutter of unease tickled the pit of my stomach again.
“This’ll only take a few minutes,” she assured.
Says every madman before he tortures you, I’m sure.
She wheeled her chair to the other side of the exam table and began cleaning off my palm again, the sharp scent of disinfectant invading my nostrils.
I started drumming the fingers of my good hand against the exam bed.
“Need you to hold still for me.” Jennifer lined up an injection. “This is lidocaine. It might cause a brief stinging or burning sensation, but it will numb the area very quickly. Small poke.”
The sudden prick of the needle sent a sting flaring at the injection site, and when I cringed at the slight burn the nurse had warned me about, Hunter grasped my uninjured hand between both of his.
His touch caught me off guard. As did his eyes—the unexpected security of his grip pulling my focus back to him. His fingers tightened around mine, and a surge of something—concern, understanding—passed between us. What had begun as a simple ride had evolved into something deeper.
