Page 16 of Branded Souls (Ember Hollow Romance #3)

Skye

I winced at the sting of pain searing across my palm, and the involuntary scream I’d let out.

Blood welled, and I mumbled a curse. I didn’t even have time to reach for a towel, when the bedroom door flew open.

Fox stumbled in, panic stark on his face. I froze as he frantically gazed around the space until he settled on me, standing in the corner by the dresser.

His eyes were squinty…eyelids heavy with sleep that he was trying to blink away. Fox slept deeply. I was surprised my scream—which was more of a shocked yelp, really—had woken him.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a rush, embarrassment heating my face. “I was…I mean, I couldn’t sleep so I was organizing my stuff in the dresser and the mirror that was leaning against the wall wasn’t secured and it fell.”

Fox blinked again. His gaze shifted to the mirror that was face down on the dresser.

Only the top quarter had hit the edge when it fell forward.

One large shard had broken and was laying on the floor.

If the rest had shattered too, the glass was safely trapped between the mirror and the dresser.

I carefully scooted the mirror back; it was small enough to lay completely flat on the dresser top and not expose any of the broken glass.

“You’re bleeding.” Fox’s voice was deep and raspy.

I swallowed hard, feeling the wet warmth starting to roll down my arm. “I’m okay,” I muttered, grabbing the end of my shirt and using it to stanch some of the flow.

I hadn’t heard him approach, but a gentle hand grabbed my elbow.

“Let me see.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “It’s fine.”

“Skye.” My name was a low, near growl that had my stomach tightening. “Let me see.”

He wasn’t going to leave me alone until he was sure that I wasn’t going to bleed to death. That guilt I often felt when around him stirred awake.

Slowly, I let go of my shirt. Ignoring the gruesome bloodstains on my favorite, most comfy sweatshirt, I held my hand out. His fingers were soft as they touched my skin, and for the first time since he stumbled into my room, I really looked at him.

My breath caught.

Fox was close. The closest he’d been since we ran into each other that first day.

But this time, he didn’t have a shirt on.

I’d seen Fox’s bare chest before, but this was different. When we were teenagers, he had been in shape, sure, but now his chest looked as if it had been chiseled by the very gods themselves. He was all lean, hard planes of muscle, from his sculpted biceps to his abdominals .

Bulk wasn’t the only thing he’d added to his physique.

Fox was covered in ink. It was both beautiful and jarring. I’d never known that he had an affinity for tattoos—not like this.

They started above his elbows and crawled up his shoulders and over the expanse of his chest. There was so much of it to look at that my eyes didn’t know where to land first. It was all black, bold ink in different patterns of geometric shapes and lines.

There were some decipherable images hidden in the knots of intersecting shapes, like something that needed to be studied closely before all the secrets were revealed.

“You don’t need stitches.” His voice made me jump.

My gaze shot to his. I’d totally forgotten about my cut. “Your tattoos,” I blurted, not knowing what else to say. They had totally thrown me off.

Fox tensed, and I recognized a flicker of uncertainty in his expression.

“Come on.” He gently lifted my hand so it was above my chest. “I saw a first-aid kit in the bathroom. We should bandage you up before you bleed everywhere.”

I staggered after him as he led me out of the room. I couldn’t keep myself from looking at all that dark ink across his skin. It was stunning.

“Sit,” Fox commanded, pointing to the couch. “Keep your hand above your heart. I’ll be right back.”

I did as I was told, sinking down onto the cushions. The blanket I’d left for Fox was on the floor, like he’d kicked it off in a hurry.

He gave me another unsure glance as he picked something else off the floor. His shirt. He had it on within the next breath, and he headed to the bathroom.

Disappointment hit me, though I wasn’t sure why. Fox didn’t owe me anything. He obviously hadn’t meant to show me his tattoos. I fixed my gaze on my feet until he returned .

He knelt before me, taking my bleeding hand that was stuck up in the air awkwardly. “I’m going to clean it out and then make sure there isn’t any glass in it,” he said flatly.

I nodded.

We were quiet as he carefully cleaned off the blood with a cloth soaked in soap and warm water. It stung, but I didn’t flinch. I focused on his hands as he worked, on his long fingers that were somehow both strong and delicate at the same time.

When we were teenagers, Fox sometimes disassembled different kinds of electronics just to reassembled them.

I think he enjoyed the challenge of figuring out how something worked and being able to put it back together.

Eventually, he started repairing people’s computers when he got good enough at dissecting problems and fixing them.

I used to lay with him on his bedroom floor as he took apart machines with intricate wires and chips, and it was fascinating to watch those fingers work so delicately, but efficiently. It was mesmerizing.

My mouth tightened as I caught a glimpse of his knuckles. Fading bruises spotted his skin, accompanied by peeling scabs.

“What happened to your knuckles?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

He paused. He didn’t meet my eyes, but his fingertip carefully caught my thumb, caressing the raw and picked skin that surrounded the nail. “What happened to you?” he whispered.

My heart stuttered, and I resisted the urge to yank my hand away.

Of course he’d noticed my picking. A wave of shame rolled over me, followed by embarrassment. I didn’t respond, and we both focused back on the currently bleeding wound.

The glass had sliced me from below the pinky finger to the middle of my palm. When most of the blood was cleared, Fox took out his phone and used the flashlight to inspect the wound. He fixated on it, searching for any fragment of glass left behind.

“No glass,” he said, satisfied as he put away the phone and got out the bandages and antibiotic cream.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” I said, breaking my silence.

He paused briefly before smearing the antibiotic on with a cotton swab. “I thought someone was breaking in. I’m just…glad you’re okay.”

I suppressed a shiver. “You really don’t have to stay here with me, Fox.” He gave me a sharp glare, but I continued before he could argue. “I understand that you have made your decision, but I’m going to feel even more guilty when all this turns out to be nothing.”

“It’s worth my time, regardless.”

Something in my chest ached at those words. I stared at him, unable to chase away the feeling that I was not, in fact, worth his time.

I shifted on the couch as he finished with the bandaging.

“Does it hurt?” A hard line formed between his brows.

It burned and throbbed, but it wasn’t too bad. I shook my head.

He didn’t look convinced. “Want some medicine for the pain?”

He still held my hand. I stared at the way he cupped it in both of his. That guilt festered in my gut.

I shook my head again. I wanted to distract myself, and him. “Your tattoos…they’re beautiful.”

Surprise widened his eyes when I looked at him. Those gray hues were darker than usual in the dim lighting. They bordered on charcoal.

He let my hand go.

It hung in the air for a moment before I rested it on my lap. “When did you start getting them?”

Fox looked away. The tattoos barely peeked out from the bottom of his shirtsleeves. Like he purposefully got them where they wouldn’t be visible when he was fully clothed.

“It’s late,” he said, voice clipped. “We should both get back to bed.”

It was clear that the tattoos were something private for him. Maybe even something sacred. Which made me want to know more. The curiosity burned in the back of my mind. I wanted to know everything.

But I had long ago given up the privilege to know anything intimate about Fox Ramsey.

So, I merely nodded and dragged myself to my feet.

Fox straightened too, and we stood there facing each other. I pulled in a deep breath, inhaling his scent—woodsy and clean.

I had once known the man standing before me better than anyone. He’d trusted me with his most precious secrets, whispering them in the dark of night when we were entangled in each other.

Now, we were strangers. Instead of shared secrets, we hid them. Buried them deep so the other person couldn’t find them.

Fox swallowed hard and stepped back. “Try to get some sleep, Skye.”

I looked away, stepping around him to head back to the bedroom. “You too, Fox.”