Page 17 of Wild Heart
Marcos tilted just slightly, and though his frame cast a shadow across the darkened wood, I saw what he’d done.
Shallow, jagged lines had been carved into the bottom half of my door.
Christ.
Capturing both of his hands in mine, I stared at the pads of his fingers and the dried blood that stained them. Several of his nails were cracked, and one was split straight down the middle.
The sight of his pain made my vision blur with misplaced rage, and I wanted to take a torch to my front door for not being soft enough for his touch.
“They don’t hurt,” he whispered. “I never feel the pain. Just the panic.”
Swear to god, this boy would break me.
Lifting his hands to my mouth, I pressed my lips to all ten of his bloodied fingers. He made a strangled sound, and his pupils were blown wide as he stared up at me, lips wet.
“For now on, the only blood I want to see on your skin is mine. Understand?”
He nodded.
“Say it.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
Dropping his hands, I reached for his armpits, preparing to lift him to his feet. A squeak left his lips, and he swatted me away like I was on fire.
“You’re not supposed to lift heavy stuff! You’re still healing.”
“You’re not heavy. I could put you in my pocket.”
His cheeks flushed.
I think my boy liked the idea of being carried around.
“It doesn’t matter.” He lifted his chin in a show of defiance.
It was fucking cute.
“And just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m not heavy. I’ve been dancing for fourteen years. I have muscles. Nice ones, too. You should see my calves. Real sculpted.”
I chuckled. “Oh, I know. My job was to observe, remember? I know just what your body can do.”
“Not everything,” he said and climbed to his feet.
I stood and slapped my palms against the front door, one hand on either side of his head. Pressing my chest against his, I had him just where I wanted him—trapped.
I brought my lips to his ear. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Y… yes.” His chest fell, and I felt his next breath across my neck. “Did you like it?”
“Loved it.”I pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear. “Now, let’s go take care of those fingers.”
“They’re fine. I promise.”
Gripping his jaw, I forced his chin upward. “I don’t like it.”
“My fingers?”
