clean. I’m sure hand-hygiene isn’t at the top of the demon’s priorities.
She sets a bottle of whiskey on the table and sticks her hands in latex gloves. Ethan unscrews the lid from the alcohol and takes a swig. Sighing, he sets the bottle back on the table, looking more annoyed than anything, like taking the time to get patched up is more of an annoyance than anything else, because we both know he’d rather be back out there, hunting down the one bird-demon that got away. Fuck, he’s out of my league.
“You’re lucky,” Julia says, inspecting the wounds on Ethan’s arm. “This almost went to the muscle, which is out of my realm of care. I don’t have professional medical training and know you don’t want to lose any sort of function of your arm.”
I do know someone with more training. A lot more training. But asking my mom for help is the last thing we can do. She’d think I’d gone insane—again—and would most likely get the police involved. I don’t know how we’d explain this. An animal attack? There hasn’t been a sighting of anything bigger than coyotes in this area for decades.
“I’ll be fine,” Ethan insists again and reaches for the whiskey with his uninjured arm. Julia cleans the cuts and then takes a sewing needle and thread from the box. Blood doesn’t bother me, but the sight of Julia piercing Ethan’s skin over and over with that big-ass needle makes me lightheaded. I look away, concentrating on my breathing. A minute later, I’m feeling better, and the next time I look up, Julia is wrapping gauze around Ethan’s arm.
“Change this bandage tonight,” she tells Ethan, who brushes her off. Julia flicks her eyes to me. “Maybe you’ll have better luck. Wounds like this tend to have a certain amount of drainage and easily get infected.”
I nod. “I see it with animals.”
“You work at a vet, right?"
“Right.”
“Good, then you’re not squeamish.”
“Not normally,” I tell her, wondering just how many injuries she’s patched up over the years. “I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”
“Thanks. If anyone can talk sense into him, it’s you.”
My eyes meet Ethan’s, and I smile. “I don’t know about that.”
“Lean back,” Julia tells Ethan, going back to cleaning the wounds on his chest. Thankfully, those don’t need stitches. “Are you sure you’re okay, Anora?” She glances over at me as she dabs ointment on the scratches.
“Yeah. Physically, at least. I—”
“Got lucky,” Ethan interrupts, eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment, but that’s all it takes for me to know he doesn’t want Julia finding out about my fire powers. Hell, I still don’t know much about it.
“Right.” I force a smile. “I got lucky Ethan was there to defend me.”
Nodding, she steps back and tosses a bloody piece of gauze on the table. “Good.” She opens a cabinet and sorts through pill bottles, shaking out two in her hand and setting them on the table. Ethan picks them both up, puts them in his mouth, and downs them with whiskey. “You need to—” She lets out a sigh.
“What?” Ethan asks, and she shakes her head.
“You need to wait until the whiskey is out of your system before taking a narcotic for pain.”
“Oh, oops.” Ethan shrugs.
Julia waves her hand in the air. “You’ll pass out in about twenty minutes.” Her eyes go to me. “Take him to bed?”
Ethan gives me a cheeky grin. “I don’t think having her take me to bed will be very restful.”
Julia rolls her eyes. “I’m not stitching you back up if you pop those open. Rest, and then we’ll hit the books again. Since the bird-demons, as you put them, almost killed you, you definitely got a closer look.”
“Closer look and a closer smell,” Ethan says, getting to his feet. “They reeked like sulfur.” That must mean something, but I’ll ask later.
“Careful,” Julia says.
“I told you, I’m fine,” Ethan counters. “I don’t think I needed stitches in the first place.”
Now I roll my eyes. I grab Ethan’s hand and tug him forward. My arms go around his neck and it’s only then I let myself feel the fear I was holding back. I could have lost him. The demon could have ripped him to shreds, leaving him to bleed to death on the forest floor.
And I can control fire.
What the fuck?
“Where’s your room?” I ask Ethan when we get to the bottom of the stairs.
“First door,” he tells me, and I go up in front of him, pausing for a