Page 120 of To Catch A Rogue

"Charlie!" She tore at his shirt, desperately trying to find the source of the bleeding.

He threatened to go under. "Help. Help. I've been shot...."

"Don't move," she gasped. Grabbing him by the other arm, she slipped beneath his shoulder. "I need to get you ashore. Get a look at—"

"I'm fine." He snagged an arm around her waist and winced. "I'm only jesting. Flesh wound, by the feel of it."

"Fine?"

A smile spread across his face. "You were worried about me."

"Argh!" Lark shoved away from him, her chest heaving.

She couldn't help seeing that moment when he'd slammed into her, his mouth dropping open in shock, and blood spraying in a fine mist over his shoulder. There was a tribal drum trapped behind her ribs, and her stomach felt hollow.

"Kiss me," he said, reaching for her. "No better way to make me feel better."

Lark splashed him in the face as he swam toward her. "Oh, I don't think so. I think you can make your own way to shore. Bastard."

"Charlie?" Gemma appeared at the edge of the bridge, peering down with concern.

"Alive," he yelled. "We'll meet you on the bridge."

Gemma nodded and vanished.

Kicking her way to the edge of the canal, Lark scrambled over the stones like a sleek otter and collapsed on her back. Charlie tried to follow, but his left arm gave out.

"Any chance you could assist me?" he asked. "I seem to have been shot."

And despite the fact she was going to kill him, she turned around to haul him out.

* * *

Lark stripped his shirt open,her nostrils flaring when she scented blood. "Through and through. You were lucky."

Blood ran in watery rivulets from the blunt hole in the fleshy part of his shoulder.

Charlie groaned. "I'd have expected a little more sympathy. I just took a bullet for you."

I know.It formed a small, frozen knot deep inside her.

A couple of inches lower and to the right, and maybe she wouldn't be holding him in her arms right now. It was easy for Charlie. Despite all that had happened during the revolution, he still faced each fight as if he thrived on the rush of blood.

He didn't think about consequences.

He didn't suffer from those moments where he could barely breathe at the thought of everything he might lose.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have played that card. I didn't realize how upset you were. It's okay, Lark. I'm fine."

"Hold still," she growled, bringing her knife to her throat.

A gentle slash, and then blood dripped down her neck, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. Straddling Charlie's thighs, she lifted his head to her throat. "Drink."

"You're very demanding when you're worried."

But darkness flared in his eyes.

Charlie grabbed her by the nape, his lips locking over the wound. The first pull of his mouth made every muscle in her body tighten. She'd never been bled before, but she knew the chemicals in a blue blood's saliva had an addictive quality. All the better to lure their prey.