Page 55 of Devious Corruption

It’s not so bad. A little deeper than I thought it was, and it’s still bleeding, but it won’t need stitches. Some soap and water and a band-aid will do fine.

Lev enters while I’m still looking at the cut and digs under the second sink, bringing out a small case with a medical cross on the top. He flips open the lid and starts pulling out gauze and other items that are completely unnecessary.

“You don’t need all that.” I shake off the sweat jacket I put on over my T-shirt and drop it on the counter beside me. “I can wash it up and put a band-aid on.”

He grunts—actually grunts—as though my answer isn’t worth an actual response. Then he lines up all the things he thinks he needs before turning to me and grabbing me with his huge Hulk hands and lifting me up onto the countertop by the waist.

“You could simply ask me to sit here.” I shove his hands away.

He huffs, then grabs one of the pieces of gauze and starts spraying it with antiseptic.

“It doesn’t hurt?” he asks, nudging my chin up so he can get better access to the cut.

“Only a little.” I lay my hands flat on my knees, because where else am I supposed to put them?

“Stop wiggling your feet.” He smiles as he dabs the gauze, cleaning off the blood that’s already dried on my skin.

I still. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was.”

“You wiggle when you’re not sure what to do.” His eyes meet mine. “All you have to do right now is sit still so I can get this cleaned up.”

I blow out a breath and turn to look through the doorway. “Marion’s on your bed; I hope that’s okay.”

“She’s fine.” He presses another piece of gauze in place.

I jump because that one stings.

“Sorry, it hurt.” I slowly come back to where he can reach me, and he goes back to work.

“You could use a stitch.”

“No.” I jerk away, protectively covering the wound with my hand, knocking the gauze from his hand. “No stitches.”

He grabs hold of my wrist, peeling my hand away and inspecting my injury closer. The scent of his aftershave envelopes us. It’s just like him, spice and heat.

“A stitch or two is probably best, but I’ll use a butterfly bandage ifyou really want.”

“It’s not that deep.” I argue.

“Do you have to argue with everything I say?” He presses down on my neck, harder than before, to stop the bleeding.

“Not everything. Only when you’re wrong,” I mutter.

He presses a clean gauze to my neck. “Fine, I’ll use a butterfly bandage. But it’s going to leave a scar.”

“Do I look like someone who cares that much about looks?”

Heat flashes in his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” I turn away, giving him better access to my neck while I get my eyes away from him. Where it’s safe. I need to look anywhere but his handsome face.

After a few moments, he peels the gauze back, curses and presses it back down.

“I’m a bleeder, I guess.” I force a small smile. “Thank you, by the way. For coming over tonight like you did.”

He tilts my head back more, getting a better look at the cut.

“Your brothers cause you a lot of trouble, don’t they?” He removes the gauze, only to replace it with another. I guess it’s bleeding more than I gave it credit.