Page 17

Like how my heart had lurched in my throat, I can feel it fall back into my chest. “I'm fine.” I whisper. Weakness leaks through each word.

Fuck me.

“You don't seem like it,” Amias murmurs sweetly.

“You don't have to pretend like you care,” I mutter, glaring at the headboard of the bed to dodge his gaze. The gift of love’s grandson can't comfort me. That's ridiculous. We're still enemies. “I’m fine. Really.”

It's every man for themselves out in this world anyways.

“Do you really think I'd be here right now if I didn't care?” I take a quick glance into his gentle eyes. “You don't have to tell me what's bothering you but trust me. I do care.”

Staring at him, I find a burst of laughter within me and snort, even as a tear drips from my eyes. Kaius would be laughing his ass off if he could see this. The prince of Amara, trying to comfort me , the princess of dreamscreechers.

What even is this life?

“What's so funny?” He turns his head sideways. I laugh despite guilt and grief pushing tears from my sockets.

“I'm…so conflicted…” I shake my head as if it would get rid of feelings. At least one out of many.

“You wanna talk about it?”

I wipe my tears away, warmth flooding my cheeks. This is embarrassing. I should be stronger than this. Stitches and memories should be nothing to me. “It's stupid that I can't just…do the damn stitches, right?”

“No, it's not.” His voice drips with sugar and honey. It's so strange how it helps to slow my trembling.

“Why do you want to comfort me? Why do you want to pity me?” He's probably doing this to find my weaknesses… or something! The grandson of Amara can't be this nice.

He furrows his brows. “I'm not trying to pity you. I'm just trying to help.”

“Liar.” I scrunch my nose at him, before sighing, picking up the needle again and putting it against my wound. I grind my teeth. Just do the damn stitch!

Kaius. The man. The snap.

Tears cloud my vision again and I grip the needle tighter like it would relieve me.

I don't want to remember this.

My thoughts start to wander before my heart falls back into my chest, and my breath steadies. “You know what? I'll sleep on it.” I drop the needle and let my back fall onto the plush comforter. So much dread is lifted just off those words alone.

“Sleep on it?” Amias stands up.

“I can't bring myself to do it today. One more night shouldn't hurt.” Maybe tomorrow the memory won't be so painful.

Veins pop from Amias' arms. “You can't sleep on it! What if it gets infected tonight?”

“It won't. It's cleaner here than it was out there. Besides,” I sit up and glare at him. “I don't need to explain myself to you.”

His lips twist into a scowl. “You don't need to explain why, but this needs to be done as soon as possible.”

“I've been able to wait before. I'm strong enough to handle myself.”

He huffs before falling silent and reaching in his pocket. Out comes a floating silver charm, which Amias' presses so that his phone turns visible. I narrow my eyes on him. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my personal doctor on the phone.” He presses it a few times before putting the phone up to his ear. “I'm not leaving you with wounds like those.”

My heart jolts. I can't let him do that!

I reach up and snatch it away from him. He gasps as I press on the screen randomly as it vibrates. Which image stops it from calling?

“Hey!” Amias shouts.

I press on a red button and the phone stills. Lucky guess. “No! I don't need your personal doctor!” I put my arm out behind me to keep the phone out of reach. “I told you I'll handle it!”

“But you're not handling it! That's the problem!” The lake in his irises freezes over. “I refuse to leave you like this. I'm not leaving until this gets taken care of.”

“I don't need your pity!” The fake pity!

Nobody cares this much about me. A man of Amara no less.

“I'm demanding this for your own benefit!”

“You can't demand me!” I snap back, despite being fully aware that he's a prince and he could very well demand me. “Besides, doesn't a prince have more important things to do other than worrying about some random woman? Aren't you supposed to be basking in your money or something?

He rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, because every prince is a stereotypical arrogant money loving menace you find in children's tales.” He reaches over to the phone and I move it away, pushing myself towards the other end of the bed. “Give me my phone back.”

“No. Because you're just going to call the doctor.”

“Do I have to hold you down and force it from your hand?”

“Yes,” I snap. Then the image of him pinning me down with that chest of his makes blood rush to my face. “Please don't.”

He sighs like that of a frustrated parent and leans over to grab it. I push myself closer to the edge of the bed, flattening my body to stretch my arm further away. When he leans in a bit further, placing a hand beside my waist, I lightly kick him in the stomach. Too close!

He stands up straight and groans. I hear tapping on the floor. “Why can't you just let me help you? Why are you so difficult?”

I don't know. Maybe because a doctor's appointment could get me reported and killed? “No one's ever this desperate to help someone.”

“Well, I got you here, didn't I? I saved you. I looked around the streets for you. I fed you.”

He's got a point. “Yes, but you've already done plenty. You shouldn't care about these wounds when I have them handled.”

“You don't, or else you would do them now.”

“You know what? If you care so much, why don't you do it?” That's a suggestion that flew out of my mouth without a second of thought. I pause, my eyes widening at the idea he could take it seriously.

His eyes fly open too, blinking like I asked him to murder somebody. “Huh?”

I snicker at his reaction. He's not going to do it. “Yes. Why don't you? It's not like you care enough to do it yourself. So, stop worrying like you would.”

“I could if that's what's gonna get them done tonight.”

I raise my brows. He’s not serious. “You’d go that far?”

“Would it shut you up?” He mimics my own face, tilting his head towards me.

I fall silent. He can't do another favor for a stranger who's done nothing, can he? Especially not the grandson of Amara. “I’m calling your bluff.”

“May I remind you that you're in debt?” He smirks suddenly, almost villainously. “You're repaying me by letting me help you. So, if you're not letting me stitch you, then that makes it unfair.”

“Like any part of this is fair!” I scoff. He can't actually want this. “I’m reaping all the benefits and you're getting nothing out of it!”

“Oh, it's almost like you should let me help you .” He taps his foot. “Or I can find help elsewhere. Or… you can do them yourself. Whichever one works.”

I twist my lips. Should I really let the prince of Amara, the enemy of my people, stitch me?

“Just know, I'm not leaving this building until those wounds are stitched up.” His gaze wanders to the ceiling before returning a stern glare to me.

I chuckle. I could let him try. Most people get ill at the thought of the piercing of the skin and seeing blood.

I’ve never seen him when I battled against their military so it's not like he's used to witnessing it.

I don't think this pampered prince has the stomach for it. “Try it. I don't think you'll finish.”

“I guarantee I will.”

“And if you don't, I'll do it tomorrow . Deal?” I reach out my hand to shake on it.

He immediately takes my hand with a firm shake. “Deal, because we won't have to resort to that.” His smirk only grows as he lets my hand go. “Now then, take a shower and clean up your wounds. We're doing this my way.”

I purse my lips. He really thinks that part matters, huh? “Fine. We'll see if your way actually works.”

“And give me my phone so I can actually learn how to do this properly.”

I hesitate a moment before biting my tongue and handing the device over. “If you dare call your doctor, I'll kill you.”

“I won't. Just get your wounds clean.”

I groan as I head to the bathroom. There's no way I'm really going to be stitched up by the prince of Amara. Is there?

Because if I am, I know Kaius’ really laughing his ass off somewhere. History is splintering in directions I've never heard of.