Page 43 of Tricked By Jack

If this isn’t rock bottom, I don’t know what fucking is.

Leaning my head back against the tiles, I sit like that until the bottle is empty. Then I finally get up, my legs unsteady as fuck as I remove my clothes and clean myself.

As I look down, I notice the water turning red as it washes away the dried blood from my skin. Fuck, I should have cleaned both of our wounds yesterday. Letting out a grunt, I cut the water off and get out.

I find my first aid kit under the sink, but before cleaning my own, I need to check on Eve’s. I might hate her, but that doesn’t mean I want her infected just because I was careless and high on the rush of claiming her.

Cutting us both with the same knife without sterilizing it was stupid. But mixing our blood like I did was fucking reckless. Her blood’s in my veins now, moving through me with every heartbeat, staking its claim from the inside out.

“Fucking hell,” I curse while towel-drying.

Her blood is in my veins, her scent under my nails. There’s no part of me that doesn’t reek of her anymore, and no part I want to wash clean.

I wrap the towel around my waist and grab the key from my dirty jeans before heading back to the bedroom.

“Get up,” I order, switching the light on.

I’m surprised when she obeys, slowly unfolding her limbs and standing. “What now?” she demands.

Unlocking the cage, I open the door. “I need to clean your wound.” I point at her hand that’s caked in dry blood.

She scoffs, but I notice a small glint of relief inher storm-gray eyes. “Fine.” I’m surprised when she leaves the cage and strides straight into the bathroom without trying anything.

“Sit,” I command, gesturing to the edge of the tub. She doesn’t move. “I said, sit,” I repeat, sharpening my tone.

This time she complies, perching on the edge of the bathtub like a bird ready to take flight. I turn to the medicine cabinet, retrieving antiseptic, gauze, and tape. When I face her again, her eyes are tracking my movements with wary precision.

I take her hand in mine, turning it palm up to examine the cut. It’s not deep, but it has reddened around the edges. I run my thumb across the wound, and she hisses, trying to pull away.

“Hold still,” I say, holding her wrist firmly as I reach for the faucet with my other hand.

Cold water sluices over both our hands, washing away the dried blood in rusty spirals. She makes a small sound—part pain, part something harder to name. With clinical efficiency, I dab the cut dry, then apply antiseptic.

She flinches but doesn’t pull away this time. Her pulse beats against my fingers, quick and stubborn, and I wonder if she’s thinking about how easy it would be to sink her teeth into my wrist. Maybe she really is a fucking progeny with how fast she’s learning.

“Our blood mixed,” I say conversationally as I wrap a strip of gauze around her palm. “In the bowl. Did you see what they did with it?”

She doesn’t answer, but I feel the tension in her arm.

“They sealed it,” I explain, securing the gauze with medical tape. “That vial around your neck contains both of our blood.”

Her fingers curl into a fist beneath my ministrations. “You’re disgusting,” she spits. “And for all I know, you might have passed some disease on to me. I want to get tested.”

I laugh darkly. “Maybe you’ve given me a disease,” I reply calmly.

At my words, she smiles coldly and locks her gaze on mine. “I really,reallyhope I have. And I hope it kills you slowly, Jack.”

Eve’s feistier than I anticipated, and I think I’m going to love having her here until Sanctuary of Shadows closes its doors. What happens after, well, that remains to be seen. There might notbe a lot left of her when I’m done with her.

“I mean it,” she continues. “People shouldn’t be mixing blood. You need to get me to the hospital.”

“Not happening, wife,” I bark, dropping her hand.

I stand and move to the sink, washing my own hands thoroughly before cleaning my own wound and bandaging it. Eve remains motionless, watching me with her storm-gray eyes.

“You have fifteen minutes to clean yourself up,” I tell her, leaning against the counter. “There’s soap, shampoo, towels in here. Use what you need.”

Her eyes narrow. “And if I refuse?”