I offer her my arm.
She sets it on the table and looks at the injury. It’s not terrible and if I leave it alone, it should heal within a few days. The beautiful thing about being a shifter is that I tend to heal very quickly from normal injuries. Almost instantly, actually. If I’m hurt by another shifter, though, well, that’s another story. Those wounds take a little while. A couple of days, maybe even a week for the really bad ones.
I don’t tell her that, though. Instead, I allow Peggy to examine my wound and to start cleaning it. When the first bite of peroxide hits my skin, I don’t hiss. Despite the sting, I don’t want her to think I’m weak or childish. After all, I’m the one who got myself into this mess. I don’t need to make things worse by complaining about the pain.
She gets to work, quietly cleaning and bandaging the deep cut.
“You should get stitches,” she says. It’s almost a whisper, and when she looks up at me, she seems nervous. Is she afraid that she might be bossing me around? Does she think I’m going to be upset at her words?
“I don’t need stitches, little human.”
“Peggy.”
“I don’t need stitches, little Peggy.”
“No,” she shakes her head, and her dark hair bounces. “Just Peggy.”
“I don’t need stitches, Just Peggy.”
Her eyes narrow, but she looks away, turning back to my hand.
“It’s a deep wound,” she points out.
“I’m not exactly human, love.”
She looks up at me sharply, but I quickly clear my face of any emotion. I’m not sure why I used the endearment on the girl. I’ve certainly never been one to randomly nickname people, but the word just slipped out.
Because she’s our mate.
I silently urge my dragon to shut up. That horny bastard would already have her in bed if it was up to him.
And oh, she’d be so delicious in there. We could spread her legs and just spend days making love to her over and ov
er and over again.
“I know you aren’t human,” she finally says. “Does that mean you can heal yourself quickly?”
“A wound like this will take a few days,” I tell her. “Injuries sustained from fights with other shifters always tend to take a little longer to heal.”
“How long would an ordinary injury take to heal?”
“Well,” I say, leaning back in the chair. “That depends.”
“On?”
“On how deep it was, on whether I licked my wound after the injury occurred, and how quickly I shifted.”
“Oh.”
“Oh indeed.”
“Have you ever been in a fight like this before?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever…”
“Go ahead,” I urge her gently. “Finish that sentence.”