“Hey!”
Winter didn’t hesitate to pull him down and attach the other handcuff to the metal frame of the bed.
“Really? What the hell!”
“It’s so I can get a few hours of sleep undisturbed.” Winter turned and pulled the food closer to Fox. Grabbing a cold bottle of water from the mini fridge, he cracked the seal on the lid and placed it on the nightstand. He even put the TV remote within reach.
“Freaking bloodsucker,” Fox cursed, jerking a couple of times on the handcuff.
“Three hours is all I’m asking. Watch TV, eat, or sleep,” Winter murmured, sounding as if he were talking more to himself than Fox. “When I wake up, we’ll order room service and talk. Damon or his men had to have said more to you.”
Fox hated to disappoint the prick, but they hadn’t. Of course, he had no intention of being around when Winter woke up to tell him that. He’d just chow down on his junk food while the vampire drifted off and then find a way to sneak out of the room. Easy fucking peasy.
Winter stopped at the foot of the bed and sighed heavily. Leaning over, he snatched up the ointment and crossed back to Fox’s side. Fox tried to move, put a little more space between them, but the handcuff rattled against the frame. He was trapped.
His breathing picked up, and his entire body tensed as he watched Winter slowly kneel next to the bed. Fox couldn’t take his eyes away as Winter screwed off the tiny cap and carefully squeezed some of the ointment onto his finger. With more gentleness than Fox had thought possible, Winter slowly spread it across his rope burn. He hissed at the initial sting and Winter froze, as if he didn’t want to cause Fox more pain. The sting was almost immediately replaced with a soothing coolness.
“It’s okay. It’s better,” Fox whispered.
Winter resumed spreading the ointment around his wrist, covering all the red and angry areas. When he was done, Winter stood again, and Fox automatically lifted his free hand toward him. The vampire didn’t say a word for a minute as he gingerly worked his way around Fox’s other injured wrist.
“Should have let you do this before locking you up,” Winter muttered. “But you weren’t being rational.”
“Well, I did just find out that the vampire holding me is from the family that wants me dead.”
Winter lifted his eyes to Fox, the cold blue depths holding his prisoner for a second. “And you’re the witch who wants to destroy all of my family.”
Point taken. Somebody somewhere was lying their ass off.
Winter screwed the top on the tube and placed it on the nightstand next to Fox, so it was within his reach. “Get some sleep, Fox. We’ll pick up some more of that tonight.”
Fox could only watch as the vampire grabbed one of the pillows from the far side of the bed and walked toward the door.
Winter dropped the pillow to the floor, sat down, and positioned the meager cushion behind his back. With his feet flat on the floor and knees bent in front of him, Winter rested his head against the wood and his arms on his knees. He looked exhausted.
Well, fuck. What the hell was he supposed to do? Run and hide? That wasn’t going to get rid of this stupid prophecy or any other lies someone was telling.
Stay with Winter and uncover the truth? That seemed incredibly stupid too.
Except Winter hadn’t tried to hurt him. He’d actually pulled him out of a situation where he was in danger of being murdered. It would have been much easier from Winter’s point of view just to kill him.
Resting his elbow on his bent knee, Fox stared at the glistening ointment already soothing the painful burn and sting in his flesh. This all seemed so much clearer before…well, before that.
Chapter 7
Winter clenched his teeth, barely holding in a groan. His body hurt. His back, ass, shoulders, legs. It all fucking hurt. It had been a while since he’d slept like this. He didn’t go all in for the extravagant creature comforts his brothers did, but his bed at home was so much better than this floor.
Of course, by the time he’d gotten away from Damon’s manor and his prisoner settled, Winter had been ready to lie down on a bed of nails if it meant he could catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Rubbing his eyes, he blinked and looked up to see Fox standing at the foot of the bed. A towel was wrapped around his waist and his flame-red hair was wet. His gaze flicked over to the open bathroom door a few feet away. The bathroom was dark, but he could feel the warm, damp air drifting out of it. How the hell had he not woken to the sounds of Fox showering?