“Ready?”
He turned to me, his face back to its angular stonewall, and nodded. I squeezed the trigger and the machine made a loud tick as the staple clamped. He fisted his hands but gave no other sign that it hurt. I did another, then another, continuing until the wound was sealed. Blood still flowed around the edges, but most of the damage was contained so I could release the makeshift tourniquet. After stripping off his shirt, the now-familiar Vinemont emblem blazing from his chest, I moved to his arm and did the same. Once the largest gash was sealed, I used gauze and medical tape on the rest.
When I was done, the shirt I was wearing was a mottled crimson and white. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm and sat next to him on the edge of the tub.
“Thank you.” He stared straight ahead, his neck tight, his jaw tighter.
I’d healed the spider, gotten him into tip-top shape so that he could destroy me even more thoroughly the next chance he got. I had no doubt he would. My flesh would be ripped, my blood spilled, and he would be the one to do it, just like before. I was a fool.
My gaze dropped to the gun only inches away, and I itched to take it. Could I kill him? End him and run? As much as my head wanted to say yes, my heart remained treacherous and refused.
As if reading my thoughts, he palmed the gun and stood, but swayed on his feet. He’d lost too much blood—the towels were soaked right along with his clothes. I pushed up and put my arm around his waist, helping him to Lucius’ bed. He eased down, set the gun on the pillow beside him, and looked around, a haze over his eyes.
“Just rest for a minute. You need to recover. I’ll go to the kitchen and get you some juice and whatever else I can find.” Distance. I needed it to clear my head, to cope with the shock of him bursting into my life again. I got one step away before he grabbed my wrist.
“Stay.”
“No. You need liquids. To replenish your blood.” I pulled my wrist, but it was useless.
His palm rested over my scars, the very reason I knew how to help him build his blood back up. I’d been hooked to an IV for days even after a transfusion.
I sighed. “I’ll come right back.”
“No.” He yanked and I fell into the bed next to him. “It’s not safe.” He wrapped his bandaged arms around me and pulled me to him, his hard chest pressing into my back.
“Vinemont!” I tried to push away from him, but I was caught.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Too dangerous.” His fingers played along the edge of my shirt, no doubt feeling the dampness of blood. “Take this off.”
I stiffened. There was no way I was going to lie in bed with him naked. “No.”
“Off.” He growled and gripped one side, yanking the shirt apart, buttons bouncing off the hardwood floors as he pulled the shirt roughly down my arms and tossed it.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” His body was hot, alive, and hard at my back. I couldn’t stay here. Not with him. Not in this bed like we were lovers, like we were two people who could seek solace from each other. We weren’t. We never could be those people. “Stop!”
He caged me, my struggles nothing to him even in his weakened state. “You aren’t leaving this bed. Get used to it. Don’t fucking try anything.”
I stopped fighting. There was no point. I would just have to wait until he fell asleep.
“You’re mine, Stella.” He tightened his grip with each word. “I don’t care where you run, who you choose, what you say, or what you fucking do. You, all of you, belongs to me.”
“I’m not a thing you can own,” I hissed.
He laughed, the sound low and full of heat. “You can hop countries like a skipping stone for all I care. I’ll find you, and you’ll wind up right where you are now.”
I tried another tack, one designed to knock him back to reality. “Besides, if I belong to anyone, it’s Lucius.”
He stopped laughing and drew his free hand up to my hair, stroking through the strands before gripping so tight it hurt. I yelped.
“Has he touched you?” His voice was in my ear, danger and seduction cutting through me like the knife had his skin.
“Fuck off.”
He yanked. “Has he?”
I barked out a harsh laugh. “Yes. Every night. Every night he fucks me until I scream his name. He gives it to me so good he’s all I can think about. I want it from him. I dream about him. When he puts his cock in my mouth I’ve never been happier. I beg him to fuck me in the ass. When he does, I come so hard I black out.”