Page 27 of Cold-Blooded Creatures

I wobbled back, out of his reach, and turned. There he was, my kidnapper. Hands back in his pockets, coldly observing my handling of Zion.

A wet line on his black t-shirt caught my attention and another idea formed. I half-ran the few steps to him, feigning a punch to his jaw and letting him catch my wrist—again—distracting him enough to shove my uninjured hand in the cut above his hip. Warmth drenched my fingertips, and his pained grunt caressed my ears like notes of the most exquisite melody.

“Yes, Kali, fight me,” he gritted out.

I faltered. How did he know my name?

Fuming, I kicked at him, twisting free and staggering backward. It was getting hard to keep my balance. A blink, and my eyelids grew too heavy. Another blink, and weakness compelled me to yield, buckling my knees. Someone snatched me up as I slumped, my limbs refusing to cooperate.

Two sets of eyes, one as dark as the night and one so bright as if sculpted from the early morning sky, loomed over me, watching me drift away.

9

GEDEON

Ihad not expected her to be awake. Had figured it would be easier for the doc to check on her if she were unconscious.

But the way she had fought us without considering surrender… A wild animal raging in a cage. Except it was not something that could trap her. She immediately noticed the rusted spots to hit, the gaps between the bars to squeeze through.

She had even sacrificed her crystal decanter. She had giggled at it so mischievously in her apartment that I could not leave it behind. I wanted her to have it.

And now she had used it against us.

She was a fighter.

“Put her down.” The doc motioned toward the bed, and I laid her down on the ash-like sheets, careful not to aggravate her injury.

Deep in restless sleep, she still resembled a fighter. Hair so dark, as if weaved from the death’s cloak was sheared by its scythe below her shoulders. Parted plump lips highlighted her cupid’s bow and angular jaw as sharp as that scythe. Her skin was so light it seemed she had bottled and drunk the death itself.

She was death incarnate.

One I had stolen for myself.

The doc placed a pillow under her hand to elevate it. “You drugged her so much yesterday, she passed out for the night and half a day and now this.”

“How were we supposed to know she was going to cut herself?” Walking around the bed, Zion picked up the bloody shard she had chosen as her weapon. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Did you really think she’d drink the water after you drugged it the last time?” The doc pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and resumed his tirade. “And this, now, was a game. You were playing with her. The longer the injury is untreated, the harder my job becomes,” he complained, as grumpy as the hundred previous times he had treated one of us. He was good at his job, but could not do it with his mouth shut.

“She looked so beautiful, all covered in red.” Zion licked the crystal piece she had used as a weapon and a drop of scarlet colored his chin. He collected it with his forefinger and sucked it clean, his ocean-blue eyes closed. “Who could say no tothat?”

I glared at the doc. “Stitch her up.” A reddish ring had spread on the ashen pillow supporting her limb.

He tore open a large pack of sanitary gauze with a harsh crinkle. “Pull up your shirt. I need to see if you’ll need stitches too.”

“Take care of her first,” I pressed.

Zion might have enjoyed seeing her bleed, but I was not indulging him this time, not for such an insignificant reason as her attempt to escape me.

The doc laid out his med supplies on a tray on the bedside table and selected a few cotton pads. “I won’t examine her until you lift your shirt. She’s not the one responsible for everyone here.”

I ripped my shirt up, exposing the scarlet line low above my hip. It was fine. Not the first time I had been cut and surely not the last.

And I was not letting him erase the slash she had left in me with a needle and a thread. They would eliminate the possibility of a scar forming. The idea of her marking me before she consciously chose to be mine called out a primal need inside me.

I gave him a total of ten seconds to inspect my abdomen before I took the bandage from him and plastered it on myself. “I said take care of her. And Zion too.” If he allowed the doc to touch the shallow stab wound in his thigh.

“Don’t you growl at me. Or I won’t stitch either of you the next time you come all cut up.” He scrutinized her wound and dabbed the white gauze on it. “And she’ll be fine. Should be out for about an hour. She might sleep it off for longer due to the lack of hydration and nutrients. I don’t suppose she’s eaten or drunk anything since last night?”