his tire maybe?" My lips pressed into a hard line. "You're such an ass. Has...anyone ever told you that?" He flashed a genuinely amused smile. "Oh, Kitten, every single day of my blessed life." I stared at him in disbelief again. "I don't even know what to say..."
"Since you already said thank you, I think nothing is the best way to go at this point." He stood with fluid grace. "Just please don't move.
That's all I ask. Stay still and try not to cause any more trouble." I frowned and it hurt.
My not-so-charming knight stood over me, legs braced apart and arms at his sides as if ready to protect me again. What if the guy came back? That must be what Daemon was worried about.
My shoulders started to shake, my teeth quickly joining in the fun. Daemon whipped his shirt off and pulled the warm cotton over my head, careful not to let even a whisper of cloth touch my damaged face. His scent wrapped around me and for the first time since the attack, I felt safe. With Daemon. Go figure.
As if my body recognized I didn't need to fight anymore, I started slipping sideways, and I knew I was going to black my other eye when my head hit the pavement because I was most definitely about to pass out for the second time in as few days. I briefly wondered why I was cursed to always faint in front of Daemon, and then folded to the ground like a paper sack.
Chapter 10
I didn't make it a habit to frequent hospitals.
I hated them as much as I hated country music.
To me, they smelled of death and disinfectant.
They reminded me of Dad, and the time that had clocked away while the cancer hollowed his eyes and chemo bloated his body.
This hospital was no different, but the visit was a little more complex.
It involved the police, a frantic mother, and my surly, dark-haired savior, who still hovered near the little room they'd shoved me in. As rude and ungrateful as it was, I was doing my best to ignore him.
My mom, who'd been on shift at the hospital when the ambulance brought me in with a police escort, kept randomly reaching over and stroking my arm or face - the good side at least.
As if that motion reminded her that I was alive and breathing and only bruised. I hated myself for it, but it was starting to annoy me.
I was feeling the height of bitchiness.
My head and back were aching something fierce, but the pain in my wrist and arm were the worst. After tons of poking, prodding, and half a dozen X-rays, nothing was broken. I had a sprained wrist and a torn tendon in my arm, in addition to numerous deep bruises and scratches.
A brace already encased my left hand and forearm.
There was this elusive promise of pain medication that had yet to arrive.
The police officers were kind, if a little too brusque. They asked every question imaginable.
I knew it was important I tell them everything I could remember, but the shock was beginning to wear off and the adrenaline had long since faded. All I wanted was to go home.
They thought it was an attempted robbery gone wrong until I told them he hadn't asked for any money. After I'd told them what the attacker had said, they believed he may have been ill or possibly a drug addict coming down from a high.
When the police were done asking me questions, they moved on to Daemon. They seemed to be on familiar terms with him. One even clapped him on the shoulder and smiled.
They were buddies. How sweet. I didn't get a chance to listen to what he was telling them because my mom had taken over the interrogation.
I wanted them all to stop and go away.
"Miss Swartz?"
Surprised to hear my last name, I was pulled out of my own thoughts. One of the younger deputies was at my bed again. I couldn't remember his name, and I was too tired to even look for a name tag. "Yes?"
"I think we are pretty much done for tonight.
If you remember anything else, please call us immediately."
I nodded and wished I hadn't. I grimaced as pain shot through my head.
"Honey, are you okay?" Mom asked, her tone pitched in worry.
"My head, it hurts."
She stood. "I'll go find the doctor so we can get those meds in you." She smiled gently.