Marked (Primal Obsessions #2) - Cara Wylde Page 0,45
recover faster.”
I didn’t mean to stand there, mouth open, and stare. But he wanted me to shove a knife in Lincoln’s side and dig in there for a bullet?
“Rosalie,” Lincoln himself prompted, and the command set me into motion.
I knelt beside him to have a proper look at the wound. It didn’t seem like the bullet was lodged too deeply, but it wasn’t close enough to the surface for me to get it out. I took a deep breath and opened the whiskey bottle, took a big gulp, poured some onto the blade, and with shaking hands barely steadied by my liquid courage, I pressed against his firm flesh. Lincoln grunted. He might have been a bear, but he wasn’t invincible, nor immune to pain. More blood poured out of his wound, spreading down the length of my hand, down my arm, to my elbow, dripping onto the white tile of the bathroom floor. I felt something with the tip of the knife. I made the cut as small as I could, allowing for two of my fingers to probe the insides, and when they found purchase, I took them back out, along with the metal culprit.
“Fuck, that already feels better,” he whispered, voice drained of energy.
I inhaled again, but found my hands were much steadier this time around. I let the flames lick the blade until even the handle burned a little and pressed it to Lincoln’s skin. The flesh sizzled, and I flinched, but he barely moved, taking all that pain like no man could. Once I was done, I realized I’d have to do it again and again. Some of the bullets that had caught him in the arms or legs had exit wounds, but not all. The one in his side had just been the worst. I had to take all of them out, and then I had to take care of Colt, too. I washed my hands first, then pulled my hair away from my face and pinned it at the back. I could do this. Even if it took hours, I was going to pull out every single bullet so my men could heal.
Brooks helped Lincoln turn onto his stomach, and I was greeted with a nice view of his ass. Even in these dire circumstances, I couldn’t help but stare.
“I know his ass is mesmerizing,” Colt said, “but you need to hurry. I’m kind of in need of your assistance, too. Nurse Ro.”
“Shut up.” I might’ve blushed slightly.
When had I found my voice to talk back to these bears? When had I stopped being afraid of them? And began fearing for them? When had everything changed, then changed back, yet nowhere near to how things had been? My former life seemed so distant now. It was as if years had passed. No, even more. A lifetime. Another Rosalie had been Jack’s wife. Another Rosalie had suffered those beatings in fear and submission.
The new me could’ve challenged her ex-husband to hit her, to abuse her, as long as her bears lived. I hadn’t because he’d fucking gagged me. Maybe he’d been afraid of what I would’ve said to his face. The new me wasn’t as afraid of Jack as she was afraid of a life alone, without her men. My men. Mine. They had to be. All of them. I was theirs, and they were mine, and we all belonged in a world together.
“Yes, yes, we know. You hate us,” Lincoln said, and something about his tone unnerved me. Did he really think I hated them? Sure, I wasn’t a fan of many things they’d done to me, but the sex was good, their cocks were great, and in the last few days, I’d had more orgasms than I could count.
“I don’t,” I whispered as I started working on the rest of the bullets. One by one, I took them out.
As I worked, we were all silent. Well, except for Lincoln, who cried out once in a while, gritted his teeth, and banged his fists on the floor. Every time I cut him and dug in to retrieve a bullet, I wanted to say that I was sorry. I was sorry for having brought Jack’s wrath upon them.
“What happened to the men who came after you?” I asked after a while. Not only to make conversation, but also to make sure that Jack was no more. I could feel it deep down… that I was free.
“They won’t be bothering you, nor us anymore,” Brooks