Page 31 of Kingdom of Chaos (Creatures of Chaos #2)

Nineteen

“Freckles, time to wake up.”

I open my eyes to find myself cuddled up against Talon in the back seat of the truck.

Again.

We’d switched drivers a few times over the hours and the last thing I remember is being squished between Talon and Imogen.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because my cheek is pressed against Talon’s chest and he has an arm thrown over my shoulders, his hand lazily brushing over my exposed arm as he holds me in place, a trail of goosebumps following the path of his fingers.

I wiggle out from under his arm, trying to make sense of what is going on. The truck is empty and it’s just the two of us. Again. I never realized what a deep sleeper I must be.

“Sorry,” I say, my voice husky and low with drowsiness. I rub my eyes, silently praying to the Creator I didn’t just drool on him. “I don’t mean to make a habit of passing out on you.”

Talon chuckles lightly, and the soft laugh sends a flutter through my chest I would die before admitting.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” he says, his gaze sweeping over me with slow intensity that sends a flush of heat across my skin.

I clear my throat and drop my eyes, trying to ignore the sudden warmth rising in me, until I notice a dark spot on his already dark T-shirt.

“Talon,” I gasp. “You’re bleeding.”

He looks down with a frown and lifts the bottom of his shirt to reveal a slow leak coming from between the seams of the duct tape covering where the bullet tore through him.

Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “I guess it needs to be rebandaged.”

“Agreed. Let’s get that taken care of,” I say, and then look out the window to find we’re parked in the parking lot of a restaurant. “Where is everyone else?”

“The others are inside ordering food,” he says as he opens the door and climbs out of the truck. “Ensley said she’d know what to get you.”

As I shift to jump down after him, Talon offers his hand. The truck’s high clearance isn’t a problem. I can manage on my own. But I take his hand anyway, moved by the small, unexpected gesture.

Going around to the tailgate, Talon grabs his backpack and jerks his head toward the restaurant. “Let’s get inside so we don’t have to do this out in the open.”

I nod in agreement. The area looks rundown and a little sketchy, so I’d rather be inside.

A small group of what appear to be the homeless sit on the grass near the edge of the parking lot, two of them arguing loudly.

The restaurant itself looks like it’s seen better days.

The neon sign above the entrance reads Mom’s Homemade Kitchen , flickering with age, and the glass on the front door is cracked, held together by only a couple strips of tape.

But as we get closer, I catch a glimpse through the window. The inside looks clean and cozy, which makes me feel a little better.

The restrooms are immediately to the right and down a hall when you enter, so Talon and I go there first. They’re single stalls with locks on the doors, which makes it easier for us to have privacy while I re-dress his wounds.

When we get inside, Talon goes to lock the door behind him, but asks if I’m comfortable with that before turning the deadbolt.

I give a little laugh and say, “If I don’t trust you by now, we’re all in trouble.”

He glances over his shoulder at me, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes when he asks, “You trust me?”

I realize that, to him, trust is no small thing. So I take a moment to really think about it, to search my heart. And I’m a bit surprised to find that yes, somewhere along the way, I have learned to trust Talon, despite everything.

Yes, he lied to me when we first met, and at the time it nearly destroyed any faith I had in him.

But now that I know more, I understand why he did it.

Especially after meeting his mother, who was willing to coldly excommunicate him, not just from the Arcane Society but from his family and everything he’d ever known, simply for revealing their secret to us.

Moving forward, I reach around him, my gaze locked with his as I turn the deadbolt, making it clear that I do, in fact, trust him.

The crooked grin that lifts the corners of his mouth makes him look lighter than he did a moment before. Without another word, he reaches for the bottom of his shirt and I step back as he pulls it right off his head.

I’ve seen Talon shirtless more than once now, but the last few times were in high-stress situations when my concern overpowered everything else.

This time feels different.

Seeing his bare chest now makes my stomach drop. Even with the three healing slashes across his ribs and a bleeding bullet wound in his side, his body is still a work of art.

My mouth goes dry and I can’t peel my gaze from his abs.

So. Many. Ridges.

So. Hard .

By the Creator, I need to stop staring. If I don’t, Talon is going to look up and see me wiping drool from the corner of my mouth.

Gosh, Lock. Thirsty much?

With an embarrassing amount of effort, I turn away and busy myself by fishing the gauze and heavy-duty tape from his bag. When I find it and straighten, Talon is leaned up against the sink, a knowing smirk on his face that I pretend not to see.

Clearing my throat, I ask him to turn so I can look at the exit wound first, using that as an excuse to get his eyes off me while I compose myself.

I’m irritated to find his back just as appealing as his front, but the prickle of annoyance helps clear the lust from my brain, so I lean into that emotion and get to work.

I’m relieved to find that the exit wound that I packed with gauze is looking better. The bleeding has stopped and it’s already starting to heal. I carefully remove the gauze, then cover the area with a fresh layer and secure it with tape.

When I tell him to turn around so I can check the entry wound, I’ve mostly regained control of myself. Still, I keep my eyes firmly on the injury and away from his annoyingly perfect stack of abs, just to be safe.

As I peel back the tape, I’m surprised to see it’s not as bad as I expected.

There’s a little blood, but it’s just a slow ooze; the wound is beginning to close.

I don’t want his body to heal over anything left inside, so instead of packing it, I place a thick layer of gauze over the surface and tape it securely in place.

When I’m done, I finally glance up at Talon. “I think you’ll live.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The look on your face makes me think you’re on the fence about whether that’s a good thing or not.”

I roll my eyes, unwilling to say anything that might inflate his ego more than it already is. I’m about to turn away and tuck the supplies back into his bag when my gaze catches on the slashes across his ribs.

A frown pulls at my lips. I checked them this morning, and they look exactly the same.

No change. No improvement. At least that I can tell.

I’m no expert in creature healing, but I’d expect some progress by now.

The wounds have scarred over, but the skin is still raw and uneven, the flesh ridged and angry-looking.

Something about it doesn’t sit right.

Without thinking, I reach forward and run my finger over one of the newly formed scars, and Talon jerks a little.

“Oh, shoot. That probably hurt. I’m sorry,” I say as I try to snatch my hand back, but he catches it, and lays it flat against his ribs, right over the trio of scar tissue.

My breath catches and I glance up at him, finding his blue-gray gaze.

“You didn’t hurt me,” he says, his voice soft, and far more alluring than it should be.

I nod, because I’m not capable of doing anything else.

My mind has turned to complete mush. The only thing I seem capable of processing is the coolness of the skin beneath my palm and its contrast to the jagged scars.

Lifting a hand to my face, he brushes his thumb first over my cheekbone, and then trails it down my throat only to gently wrap his fingers around the back of my neck, lightly holding me in place.

He releases a sigh, quiet and laced with sorrow, but I don’t know why.

Truth is, I don’t know anything right now except that my heart is pounding and my lips are buzzing and nothing seems to exist except this moment and the two of us.

Leaning forward, he lowers his forehead to rest against mine, our breaths mingling, only the barest sliver of space separating us.

I trail my fingers up his ribs to lay my hand against his chest, and his breath catches.

“Oh, Freckles,” he whispers, and a delicious shiver runs down my spine.

I hate it when he uses that nickname . . . but I also love it.

He leans back a few inches so he can look me in the eye, and says, “What am I going to do with you?”

The air around us heats. Thoughts are completely gone from my head, and like a magnet drawn to metal, my gaze slides down to his mouth in a silent plea.

Talon winces; pain tighten his features, and some of the brain fog lifts. It’s not the air that’s hot, it’s me.

Suddenly, small flames burst to life on the tips of each of my fingers. With a yelp, I jump back, waving my hand to try to put myself out.

“I’m on fire!” I yell as I continue to flap my hand up and down.

Spinning, Talon turns on the faucet and grabs my hand, shoving it under the water and putting out the fire.

I look over at him with wide and scared eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s just another one of my former powers. We can work on your control of that one too.”

“It’s okay ? Talon, I just spontaneously caught on fire.” I glance down at his chest and see five angry burn marks, one for each finger, and I gasp. “And I burned you.”

“That’s okay too. I’ll heal fast.”

I give him a look, then drop my gaze to the scars on his ribs that still aren’t fully healed.

“That’s just because of the Komodo dragon venom, remember?”

I nod, but my throat clogs with emotion.

I just hurt him. How could I have done that? And what if I accidentally do it again?