Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 479

I stood in front of it for a long moment before I knocked.

"You can come in."

I pushed the door open but stayed on the threshold, one hand on the frame. "Are you sure I can come in? I don't want to get whipped."

He glared at me from the edge of his bed. "Just come in if you have something to say."

I stepped inside, and I saw that he had not cleaned his hand. The blood had dried over his knuckles in dark, cracked lines, and he had not even bothered to wrap it. He sat there with his ruined hand resting on his knee as though it belonged to someone else. I crossed the room before I could think better of it, knelt beside him, and opened the first aid kit on the floor.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"What does it look like? Give me your hand."

He watched me for a long moment, then slowly held it out. I took it carefully, the way I would handle something broken, and began to clean the dried blood away with soft, patient strokes. He made no sound. He only watched me, those dark eyes on my face, studying me like I was a knot he had been trying to untie all night.

When I had cleaned the wound, I worked the balm into the broken skin, firm and careful, then wrapped his hand in clean gauze, neat and snug. I sat back on my heels and inspected my work. "There. And don't do pointless things like deliberately hurting yourself, Sparrow. You're too old for tantrums."

"Are you worried about me?"

I looked up and found the trap waiting in his eyes, so I stepped around it. "Well, you're keeping me and Tasha safe, right? So it's better if you're in one piece." I packed up the kit and stood. "Try not to need me to patch you up again."

I opened my mouth to argue and closed it again. The man had split his hand open for me. The least I could do was warm his sheets. "Fine."

I followed him down the hall, and he closed the door behind us with a soft click. He lay down on one side of the bed, and I lay down on the other with my back to him, as far from him as the mattress would allow. I did not want to look at him. Too many thoughts were churning through my head, too many pieces of the night that refused to fit together, and I lay staring at the dark wall until his breathing evened out behind me.

When I finally turned, his eyes were closed. Asleep. I sat up slowly, propped my elbows on my knees, and dropped my face into my hands, and I thought about Tasha. About how she saw him now, a monster with a whip. About how I would make this year good for her anyway, how I would find the thing that made her eyes light up and hand it to her, no matter what it cost me.

Then I felt the mattress shift behind me.

His legs came around mine, one on each side, and his arms slid around my waist, pulling my back against his chest, and I went rigid. Was he not asleep? I did not turn. I sat there in the circle of his arms, barely breathing, until his hand came up and cupped my cheek, gentle, and turned my face toward his.