Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,60
scowl at him. “I’ll be fine for the five minutes it’ll take to shower.” His expression doesn’t change. If anything, it becomes even more stubborn. “The door is locked. You’ve been watching out for a tail for the past twelve hours. It’s all good. Go take a fucking shower.”
Without breaking eye contact, Alec starts unbuttoning his shirt. He flat-out refused to wear a sling or let me drive. His bandaged arm’s hidden under the long sleeve, and to casual observers his wince every time he moves will be too.
“Let me help,” I say softly, approaching slowly so that he can stop me if he wants to. Accepting help doesn’t come naturally to him, and I can see the flare of his nostrils as I come closer.
But he doesn’t stop me.
As slowly as if trying to help a wounded wolf, I reach for the collar and pull the shirt down his shoulders. It snags on the bandage, but with some careful maneuvering, I manage to get it off. The whole time Alec stands still, his breath ghosting my skin when I get too close. The sight of his bare skin makes my lips tingle with the need to kiss every inch; the sight of his tattoos wakes up memories I could never forget.
Alec’s throat bobs as he swallows. My eyes follow the movement. It’s hypnotic.
“I should…” he rasps, then clears his throat. “I should get this wrapped in plastic.” He lifts his bandaged arm, then promptly winces.
“We need to change the bandage, too, so let me do it.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I give him a stern look. “Felix tasked me with checking your wound every day for infection, so don’t even think you’ll get out of that. We’re going straight to the hospital if I see the slightest shade of red around it.”
“Of course he did,” Alec grumbles but doesn’t protest when I pull him to sit on the bed.
I grab the first aid kit from the top of Alec’s bag and set to work. Unwrapping the bandage takes some time as I’m careful not to hurt him. Seeing the wound up close is something I wish I didn’t have to do, but I have no choice. It doesn’t look bad; on the contrary. It’s just that every time I see it, I also see the blade as it swings and dives for Alec’s body. I remember the blood-curdling dread I felt when I thought he might die.
My hands tremble as I throw the discarded bandage in the trash can. Alec catches my wrist, then draws both my hands into his massive palm.
“It looks good,” he says, nodding toward the wound. “Don’t you think so, Doctor?”
His eyes dance when I meet his gaze, and just like that, with a simple touch and a joke, he manages to calm the tornado of unpleasant thoughts in my brain.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
Inspecting the wound closely, I confirm it looks quite well. Felix showed me some photos of infected stab wounds that made my stomach turn over, and, thankfully, it doesn’t resemble any of them.
Satisfied, I spread some antiseptic cream on it, then rebandage it as Felix showed me. The plastic wrap goes on after that.
“All done,” I say, putting everything back in the first aid kit.
Alec stands, looming over me. “Don’t open the door in any circumstance,” he says, all vulnerability gone from his eyes.
I salute him. “Yes, sir.”
He adjusts my salute with a smirk, before he heads for the bathroom.
The next day is more of the same. Weaving down endless back roads, stopping every two hours or so, and not making any progress whatsoever. At this point I have no idea where we actually are. No amount of chocolate or coffee can make me feel any better.
On an instinct, I reach for my phone in my back pocket. It isn’t there, of course. I’m not allowed to have it on me in case it’s been tracked.
Right now, more than anything, I want to hear Evie’s voice. She’ll probably tell me to stop complaining and suck it up. She’ll tell me she isn’t nervous about her surgery and that everything will be okay. Funny how my baby sister’s the one always talking me off the ledge.
Alec promised me a burner phone, but, apparently, it isn’t safe to use it before we get to the house. At this point I imagine the house as a bunker that would survive a nuclear bomb.