A Wicked Song - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,4
In fact, in the dictionary next to the word ‘asshole’ would be my name. I’m not leaving you alone. Now go before you lose any more blood. I’ll be right there.”
I could argue over him staying, but he’s right, I’m growing concerned about how much blood is on the towel. I reach for my belt and I can’t get it unhooked. He quickly comes to my aid once more, unlatching it before he orders, “Stay where you are.” He shifts the car into park. “I’ll come and get your door.” He unhooks his own belt and opens his door. I reach for mine with my good hand and quickly shove it open.
I’m on my feet, the piercing cold weathering my cheeks by the time he reaches my side of the car, but my head spins and I sway. I reach for support and end up grabbing Alexander, but there is nothing romantic about this moment. “Oh God,” I murmur, as my stomach rolls. “I feel sick.”
“Because you’ve lost blood.” He wraps his arm around me and I don’t have the strength to push him away as he adds, “Come on. I’ll get you inside.”
“I’m fine. Your car. You need to—”
“It’s fine,” he says, and he’s hauling me forward, the spice of his cologne permeating my nostrils, but it’s pungent, it’s too much. I think that’s my problem with Alexander. He’s too much. He’s that beast, and yet he is being so kind that I wonder why I feel these things about him.
Double glass doors open and we head inside a typical doctor’s office with white floors, vacant steel armed chairs, and a built-in reception desk. The fifty-something woman with spiky blonde hair behind the counter is focused on me and her eyes go wide.
“Oh my,” she says, before she calls out, “Ellen!”
Ellen or I assume it’s Ellen, rushes out to the lobby, and says, “Oh my,” as well.
Ellen is wearing pink scrubs, her curling brown hair wild around her heart-shaped face. She’s tiny but there’s something fierce about her that I find appealing. The next five minutes are a whirlwind but the paperwork is discussed, and Ellen is the one with her arm around me now, and it’s remarkably more comfortable despite both our petite sizes. “Do you want your guest to come back with you?” she asks.
“No,” I say, twisting around to face Alexander. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Thank you so much.”
His jaw sets stubbornly. “I’ll wait.” He motions to the chairs. “I’ll move my car and then I’ll sit. I’ll be right here.”
My cellphone buzzes with a call, and of course, I know, without looking, that it’s Kace—almost as if he’s chosen this moment purposely to insinuate himself between me and Alexander. But then, that’s not difficult when he’s the reason I’m all but destroyed right now.
I turn away from Alexander, and it’s not long before I’m sitting in a room with a doctor, a man I guess to be in his thirties, sporting a shaved head and a pleasant bedside manner. “You’re lucky,” he says after pulling a piece of wood from my hand and covering my hand with a bandage to apply pressure. “You were close to a nerve. The wood was allowing the bleed to continue. And you almost took the palm of your hand off. We’re going to stitch you up, get you a tetanus shot and some pain meds, and get you home.”
“Thank you,” I say and it’s all I can manage. I just want to go home. Now.
Half an hour later, I have stitches, a shot, a warning that my arm might hurt and/or feel heavy as a result of the shot, and two prescriptions. Thankfully there’s a pharmacy in the clinic and Ellen heads off to have my meds filled for me.
While I wait, I check my text messages to find several from Kace. I’m worried. Aria, answer. Please. See? I can use good manners, too. Baby. Please.
I’d laugh but that’s what he wants, to seduce me all over again with charm and his brand of perfection.
There’s a knock on the door and the front desk attendant, who I now know to be Lynn, pokes her head into the room. “You have a visitor who wants to join you.”
My brows furrow. “I have what?” Even as I ask the question, my heart starts to race and I don’t give her time to answer. “Who?” I ask because it can’t be him. How would he know where to find me?
But I