by Kasi Blake
She shouldn’t be here. The words circled his mind, repeating in a feeble chant throughout his brain. Hooded eyes followed Bay-Lee as she searched his bedroom for medical supplies. If he could find the strength to stand, he would make her go. She didn’t belong in his bedroom. It was a dangerous situation, far worse than his fight with the monster.
He sat on the edge of a king-sized bed with a masculine brown cover and a clump of matching pillows lined up in front of the thick headboard. The furniture, landscape paintings, and plush carpet were hand-picked by a professional decorator. Almost nothing in the room belonged to him. His personal items—stuff purchased by Tyler Beck on his many trips abroad—were locked away in storage at the moment.
“Take off your shirt,” Bay-Lee said in an abrupt tone as she hurried into the bathroom.
“There’s a first-aid kit beneath the sink.” Feeling weak from the loss of blood, he didn’t even attempt to remove the shirt. All he could manage at the moment was breathing and that was becoming more difficult by the second.
She disappeared into the other room only to return in a flash with the kit in her hands. Without saying a word to him she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and slid it up over his head before tossing it to the side. Her fingers gently probed the wound, and he sucked in a painful breath. The scent of her hair, wildflowers, teased his nostrils. This was not a good idea. She shouldn’t be in his room.
Holding out her hand, she offered him pain killers that Van kept stocked in full supply. They were not the weak over-the-counter stuff. He picked two off her palm, then purposely dropped one and swallowed the other, worried a heavy dose might dissolve his inhibitions. He’d take another after she left.
Bay-Lee pulled a thread and needle from his emergency kit. Squinting, she threaded the needle while he watched, a nervous lump in his throat. Her pink tongue stuck out as she searched for the eye of the needle, and it was so cute he almost forgot about the pain. His lips parted in feeble protest. After getting the needle threaded, she pushed him backwards until he was lying flat on the mattress. Panicking, he asked, “Do you know how to use that? Have you sewn up a person before? Ever?”
“Van taught me.” She frowned. “If you don’t trust me, we can always get someone from medical.”
“I need the vial of blood first.” He gestured to the kit.
She rummaged through the messy box until she found a small glass vial. Squinting at it, she asked, “How is this tiny amount of blood going to help?”
“It’s not human blood.” He reached out with a shaky hand, and she dropped the vial onto his palm. As quick as he could, he poured the red liquid into the hole in his abdomen. “Blood from a shifter. Doesn’t matter if you get vampire, werewolf, or whatever to bleed for you, the stuff heals wounds faster than anything.”
“You won’t turn into a monster by using it?”
He forced a strained smile. “The myths about vampires and werewolves changing people into creatures like them is bull. I’ve used it before. We all have.”
Without warning she set to work on him. Not prepared for the pain, he caught his lower lip between his teeth and bit down hard until he tasted blood and his vision blurred. Funny thing was her touch bothered him more than the needle.
Sweat beads formed on his forehead and upper lip. His skin felt like it was on fire. Bile rose in his throat and for a second he thought he was going to be physically sick. He clenched his hands to keep from shoving her away so he could flip over and puke in the nearby wastebasket.
She finished and applied a bandage while his mind floated in a dense fog. He sat up without taking the needed care and yelped. Her hands went to his head, searching for broken glass. When the monster drove him through the window, shards of glass had rained down on him. She pushed his knees apart and wedged herself between his legs. The intimate position stole his breath away. Unfortunately, his eyes were on the same level as her chest and there was nowhere else for him to look. He groaned.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked.
“Finish,” he said through gritted teeth. “Hurry up and finish.”
Her fingers delved deep into his hair, combing through it to find pieces of broken glass embedded in his scalp. Those fingers felt so good. It was almost like getting a sensual massage. He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lip again to keep from making a sound of delight. Then she would know how much he was enjoying this. The situation grew more dangerous by the second.
“Take off your pants,” she said.
His eyes popped open. “What?!”
“Your leg is bleeding. It might need to be sewed up. Take them off.”
He hesitated.
She teased, “Do you think I’m going to lose control when I see your pretty legs?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Take them off. Now.”
Nick struggled to his feet, anger giving him strength to perform the task. He unzipped and pushed the pants down. A wave of dizziness punched him in the gut and he almost fell back on the bed instead of sitting. Returning to his previous position, he closed his eyes while she worked on his leg. At least this time she worked faster, confident now, and it didn’t seem to hurt as much. She ended the painful session by pouring whisky on the wound.
He sucked in an agonizing breath.
She bandaged the wound.
He made a grab for the bottle, but she pulled it back. “You can’t mix drugs and alcohol. Take another pill if you’re still in pain.”
“Yes, mother.” The verbal jab was aimed at her, but it got him instead. Thinking about his mom was never a good thing. “I’ll take another later.”
“Get into bed and stay there. I mean it. If I see you walking around before tomorrow night, I’ll call medical.”
Relieved the torture was at an end, he climbed under the covers without protest. Bay-Lee walked around the bed and pulled them up his bare chest.
She turned to go. Nick grabbed her hand. Words stuck in his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her how incredible she was, how perfect for him, but he just couldn’t do it. Alec’s warning rattled around in his head. How could he risk billions of lives just so he wouldn’t be lonely anymore? “Thanks,” he said. “For taking care of me.”
She smiled, dazzling him. “No problem. Get some sleep and feel better.” She held the bottle of whiskey up high. “I’m taking this with me so you won’t be tempted. Goodnight.”
Then she was gone and Nick released a slow, pent-up breath. Another second in her company and he would have kissed her, forgetting the prophecy completely. A new plan formed in the back of his mind. Instead of using Jordan to run interference for him, he was going to leave school. He needed to put distance between him and Van’s daughter, maybe even an entire continent.
Chapter Seventeen
PARTY HARD
