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She sucked in a deep breath. “Stoke the fire and get my knife.”
“The fire, your knife . . . I don’t understand.”
“The wound is too deep. I’d hoped it would heal on its own, but there’s no choice now. It’ll have to be cauterized.”
Chapter 6
“Let me get this straight, you want me to place a scalding-hot blade on your bullet wound?”
“Yes. It will stop the bleeding and prevent infection.”
The sun was setting and the wind was kicking up. His moment to leave and go hunting was passing, but he was needed here. She needed him here, to apparently assault her with a knife.
He put his hand on her forehead.
She shook him off. “What are you doing?”
“Just making sure you’re not delusional with fever.”
She sighed. “I’m not. Now come on, can you do this or not?”
He went to the fire and added another log to the flames. If this was what she wanted, then he would honor it. Although she had to admit, it sounded crazy. “Don’t you want something, you know, for the pain?”
“There’s a pouch of powder in my bag. Place a pinch of it in some water.”
He grabbed her bag, removed the powder, and mixed it in a wooden cup. As he handed her the concoction, he said, “A bottle of whiskey would probably work better.”
She did her best at producing a smile and handed him her knife. “Yeah, let me know if you come across one in the next five minutes,” she said before drinking the potent water.
Krieger rested the hilt of the knife on a rock, letting the blade heat up in the fire. He turned back to her and looked her over. Her shirt would have to come off, but how? He couldn’t very well lift it over her head. That would no doubt cause excruciating pain. There was only one way to rid her of the material, and that was to rip it.
He knelt by her side. “I’m going to remove your shirt now.”
She nodded.
Had she done this before? She seemed at ease with being half naked in his presence, but maybe they were past modesty. After all, she’d seen him as bare as the day he was born.
She tilted her head to the side so he was able to get a better grip on her shirt. He yanked hard, and the green fabric ripped in two down to her navel.
Eva hadn’t winced as he eased the material off her arm, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Maybe she wasn’t as comfortable with this as she’d seemed.
When he examined the wound, he noticed it was bad. The blood had carved a red path down her ivory skin and pooled in the white of her bra. He removed the gauze and wiped up as much excess blood as he could and then wrapped her hair around her other shoulder. He pulled the white strap of her bra that was close to the wound down so it wasn’t in his way when he... cauterized her injury. Heat flushed his cheeks as his hands shook. Lock it up.
The tissue around the hole looked smooth, a sign of a clean shot.
She bent her head to look at the bullet’s entrance and asked, “Does it look bad?”
He helped her lean forward so he could get a better look at the back. The exit wound was not hard to find, and neither were countless other scars. She’d done this before.
“Should heal up nicely, Angel.”
After settling her against the wall, he returned to the fire, placed a cloth over the hilt of the knife, and turned it over. The blade was glowing orange, indicating it was almost ready.
“You understand what I’m asking you to do, right?”
He turned to regard her over his shoulder. “Eva, I have memory loss, not brain damage.”
She laughed, then winced as she said, “Ouch.” She wrapped her good arm across her waist as her left hung loose at her side. “Don’t make me laugh.”
