Hunter - Blaire Drake Page 0,69

her expression. “Hunter, you're covered in blood.”

I pulled the towel to the side and looked down at myself. 'Covered' was a slight exaggeration—all right, a big one. There was blood on my hands, but that was it.

“So is the bed.” She frowned, getting up. “Is your nose bleeding?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Lil' bit.”

“Lil' bit?” she mocked. “Are you fucking kidding me? You look like you pissed out blood all over the bed. Jesus. Sit down and I'll change the sheets.” She slid out from beneath the covers and disappeared before I could protest.

I perched on the edge of the window and tilted my head back.

“What are you doing? No, no, no. Head forward, you idiota.” Adriana dropped the clean sheets onto the floor and cupped my cheeks. Her soft palms warmed my skin, and she pulled my face down so I was looking at the floor. “Like this, otherwise the blood clogs at the top of your nose. Don't move, okay?”

“Like I have a choice.” The towel muffled my words, but I was pretty sure she heard me, if her quiet scoff was anything to go by.

I closed my eyes as she busied herself changing the bed sheets. I knew better than to ask if she wanted help. She'd already half-yelled at me for sitting wrong with a bleeding nose, so fuck only knew what would happen if I spoke again.

I pulled the towel away and replaced it for a few seconds. When I looked again, it was clean, so I sat up just in time to see her carrying the bundle of dirty sheets out of the room. Her ass shook in her plain white, cotton panties, as she walked across the hall and down the stairs.

I sighed when she disappeared from view, and then I sighed again when I heard the faint opening and closing of the washing machine. Only a woman would wash sheets in the middle of the night.

I scratched beneath my nose, careful not to nudge it in case it'd bleed again, and dropped the towel on the floor in front of me. Why was she washing the sheets at—whatever the hell time it was?

“Hey.” She appeared in the doorway with that as her only introduction. “Are you done with the towel? I just remembered you were using it.”

I blinked at her. “Yeah.”

“Well... Can I have it?” She held an arm out impatiently.

“Uh... sure. Here you go.” I picked it up, rolled it into a ball, and threw it at her.

“Thanks!” She sounded much happier as she caught it and went to turn.

“Why are you washing them?”

She looked over her shoulder, her dark eyebrows dipping together. “Because the blood will stain the fabric if I don't put them on a hot cycle while it's still wet.”

Well, obviously. Let's wash them and not buy new ones, although that's the easy option.

Adriana ran back downstairs on her tiptoes, still wearing nothing but her underwear, and I shook my head. Women.

I went back into the bathroom when the blood on my hand caught my eye. It was starting to dry and go flaky, so I ran the tap until it was warm and then put my hand under the flow of water.

“Fuck!” My hand stung instantly. I snatched it back and killed the water as I realized the blood wasn't from my nose—but from the cut across my knuckle. “Shit!” I pulled some toilet paper from the roll and dabbed at it, but it disintegrated within seconds. I tugged off several more squares until my hand was dry and I could put a ball of it on the cut without it falling apart.

How the fuck did I cut my hand?

“What are you—Jesus Christ, Hunter. You're still bleeding!” Adriana sighed hopelessly and opened the cupboard above the sink after batting me away. She pulled out a small black bag then shoved me into the bedroom. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”

“I'm fine.”

“I said sit on the edge of the bed.”

“Addy, I'm fine.”

“Damn it, Carlo! I said sit on the bed!” Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and when I looked up at her, her normally bright eyes were dull, and she looked like she was holding back some serious emotion.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you,” she said softly, climbing up next to me. She unzipped the bag and emptied the contents of it on the bed. “Can I see your hand?”

“It's just a scratch.”

“Let me see your hand,” she ground out, holding one