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Caspian presses the end call button on his phone and lifts his gaze to meet mine.
It’s then that I notice his washed pallor. His skin now ashen, and a thin layer of sweat coats his forehead.
Fuck.
“We found Darian,” he manages to say, his voice strained as he takes a deep breath. “It seems Dolly has gathered a substantial force of guards since she’s no longer under his protection. She has taken matters into her own hands to seek revenge.”
Oh. That’s who ‘She’ was.
“We have been tracking her movements after she surfaced. Finally after years of hiding behind my brother’s protection...” His words are slow as he continues, “I was wondering what she had up her...”
But his words fade into silence, and I notice a sudden change in his demeanor. His head dips downward, and my heart skips a beat at the fluttering of his eyelids.
“Fuck” I repeat out loud, urgency lacing my voice as I rush to Caspian’s side, kneeling in front of him to set out the peroxide, “I need to get to the wound.” I glance up at him, and to my relief, his focus seems to sharpen, albeit with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“If you wanted my pants off, my dear Lara, all you had to do was ask.” he drawls, his speech slightly slurred.
My cheeks flush and Caspian stands once again, unbuckling his belt deftly with one hand.
I help tug his jeans to the floor as the fabric tugs on the injured skin around his wound, a fresh surge of crimson blood gushes out, the sight making my stomach churn.
He lowers himself into the chair with a heavy thud, his shoulders slump, and I can see the exhaustion clear on his face.
I need to move fast.
My heart pounds in my chest as I quickly retrieve Caspian’s belt from the floor, folding it and placing it gently between his teeth before darting to the stove. I grip the red-hot dagger in one hand and snatching the hydrogen peroxide from the kit with the other.
Returning to Caspian’s side, I lock eyes and warn him, “This is going to hurt.”
Without giving him a chance to prepare himself, I pour the hydrogen peroxide over the wound.
Caspian’s chest heaves but to his credit he makes no sound as the liquid fizzes and foams upon contact. His knuckles turn white as he grips the counter and the side of the chair.
Before he can protest or halt my actions, I steel myself and press the red-hot blade against his wound. I focus on angling it in a way that will effectively cauterize the injury and help stem the bleeding.
The scent of burnt flesh fills the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.
Caspian’s grunts escalate into a deep, throaty moan, the sound reverberating in the room. The pungent odor hangs heavy in the air, and I swallow against the bile rising in my throat.
I move with purpose, carrying the hot blade to the sink and running it under cool water for several minutes. The hiss of steam fills the room as the heat dissipates, and I drop it to the sink with a clatter.
Turning to face Caspian, I find him sitting in the chair, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath as his pallor begins to return to normal. The realization that both Caspian and Darian are far from being typical humans sends a chill down my spine.
Seeing Caspian’s recovery gives me hope for Darian’s, recalling his state at the police station as my thoughts turn to Dolly.
“The anonymous tip to the police department... was that your doing?” I tilt my head, studying his expression.
His gaze meets mine and my heart flutters.
“No,” he finally responds, and I’m surprised as he continues, “I had no prior knowledge of Darian’s arrest until it was reported on the news. Someone else must have called it in, and I was informed afterward.”
This honesty is refreshing, but incredibly dangerous.
Part of me wonders if it’s a trap.
Some clever way to hook me in again into trusting him, even if just tentatively.
The other, much more foolish part of me wonders if this is him.
