Hunter - Blaire Drake Page 0,70

of hers out.

I took a deep breath and held it out to her.

“Thank you. Again.” She lifted the tissue and peeked under. “Wow. You don't do anything halfway,” she muttered.

I decided not to respond. It was probably the smart choice—she was already busy ripping open packet and cutting up strips of gauze.

“Okay, here.” She took my hand and laid it on her knee. “This might hurt a little.” She swabbed a cotton ball with a small bottle of liquid, pulled away the tissue, then wiped.

I hissed in a breath as whatever was on the ball stung like fuck.

“Sorry.” She winced as she dabbed around the cut with a small piece of cloth. Ten seconds later, she had a dressing taped into my knuckle. “Try not to move it too much. It'll be awkward to heal otherwise. Only you could literally slice your knuckle open.” She refilled the first aid kit and carried it, along with the dressing wrappers, into the bathroom.

“Thanks.” I looked down at the off-white tape stretching across my knuckles and along the lower part of my finger.

“You're welcome.” She came back into the room, tucked hair behind her ear, and paused in front of the curtains. “Can I shut these?”

“I... yeah. Sure.”

“I can leave them open if you'd rather.”

“It's okay. It's a little off-putting.”

“Okay.” She shut them and then climbed into bed. “Does it hurt? Your hand,” she added when I frowned.

“Oh. No, not really. Only when you touch it with vile shit.” I glanced down at it. “I've had worse. How did it happen?”

Between the window and pulling the fresh covers up to her waist, Adriana's hair had worked itself loose from behind her ear. She pushed it back and looked between my hand and my face. She finally settled on my eyes. “You don't know?”

“No. You woke me up, scared the shit out of me, and then I was bleeding.”

“Oh.” She paused, biting her lower lip. “I think you were having a nightmare, Hunter. You were tossing and turning and muttering a lot. You looked... I don't know. Distressed? Then you sort of hit yourself in the face, and then you slammed your hand into the lamp on the nightstand and knocked it over. That's when you cut yourself, I guess. The edge of the base is sharp.”

I turned to the nightstand. She was right—the lamp was on its side, and the corner of the base had a wipe of blood.

“You hit it so hard you actually knocked the bulb out.” Her lips twitched, but I could see her worry. “I woke you up after that. I didn't want you to really hurt yourself.” Or me.

She didn't say it, but I knew she was thinking it.

The worst part was that I couldn't reassure her that I wouldn't have, and she knew it.

I could tell her right now that I would never hurt her, but in my sleep? In a nightmare? I didn't know. You heard crazy shit now and then about people doing dumb stuff in their sleep—apparently I had the potential to be one of those lunatics.

“Should I have left you?”

“No.” I brushed my thumb over her cheek, and she turned into my hand. “No, you did the right thing. Sorry if I scared you. It happens sometimes.”

“I wasn't scared. Just worried for you.” She touched her hand to mine before giving me a small smile and lying back down. She tugged the sheets over herself and looked up at me. “Are you ready to go back to sleep or do you want to stay up a while?”

“Sleep is okay. You're tired.” I lay back down with her and patted my shoulder. I felt my muscles tense as she clicked off the lamp, using my side to steady her.

“Hunter?”

“You tickled me. That's all,” I lied smoothly.

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolled back toward the edge of the bed and put the light back on. I opened my mouth to speak when she said, “Don't fucking argue with me, Carlo,” and pressed a finger to my mouth before snuggling into my side.

I exhaled slowly and held her tightly. The nightmare was now nothing but a vague wisp of recollection, so I closed my eyes and focused on something else.

Like the fact my hand was starting to hurt.

Fucking hell.

***

Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains. I squinted and threw my arm over my eyes when I rolled into it. Clearly washing sheets was something Adriana could do at one in the morning, but closing curtains properly? No.

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