Page 22 of Branded By Shadow
“It works.”
“Does it?”
“You opened the door.”
“That was for the snacks.”
His eyes drop to my mouth for half a second.
My pulse trips like an idiot.
I tear open the cookies just to have something to do with my hands. “For the record, if this is dinner, I’m leaving a bad review.”
“Eat first. Review later.”
I bite the head off a cookie bear.
Shadow watches like this is somehow meaningful.
“What?” I ask around the cookie.
“Nothing.”
“That was not a nothing look.”
“You’re bleeding again.”
I look down at my palm. One of the cuts has reopened, a thin red line against skin scraped raw from gravel and bad choices.
“It’s fine.”
He reaches for me.
I step back.
His eyes narrow.
“I said it’s fine.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“No, you just started doing that thing where you silently decide you’re in charge.”
“In this room, with men hunting you, I am.”
I laugh once. “Absolutely not.”
His voice lowers. “Let me see your hand.”
I should argue.
I want to argue.
Instead, I hold it out, because apparently almost being killed has made my body very interested in betrayal.
He takes my wrist carefully. That’s the worst part. Not the strength. The care. His thumb rests near my pulse, and I know he can feel it jumping.
He looks at the cut, then grabs one of the clean motel towels from the bathroom, wets a corner, and comes back.
