Page 44 of Killer Bones

“Perhaps a sedative?” the doctor asks as he packs his bag. “She would be suffering from the trauma and needs rest.”

I look to her, all snuggled within my white sheets with smears of blood here and there. “No. I’ll make sure she sleeps.” The previous drugs might mess with her metabolism, and I’ve no idea what Montez used on her. “You gave her a painkiller?”

“Yes, and there are tablets on the small table. I also rebandaged her hand and checked that it’s not infected.”

“Good.” I walk him to the bedroom door. The staff will take him the rest of the way. I blank the front glass to full opacity. The room darkens, and the blue sky above and the wide balcony full of climbing ivy and furniture, are slowly erased, leaving a dark wall.

I pause, remembering the scene. It is strangely serene outside today. The gods pay no heed to us humans and our evil doings.

It’s done. We are safe. I thought that before but only now does peace truly sift down.

When I go to her and sit on the edge of the bed, her eyes are already closed to slits, her eyelashes fluttering.

“Sleep now. You’re safe.”

I hold her good hand when she sneaks it into mine and stay there beside her, watching until she falls asleep.

Now, I must sort out exactly what keeping her means.

Locking this woman away in my bedroom, forever, sounds good but is impractical.

Unfortunately.

I’ve showered already, so I climb into bed behind her, carefully shifting aside the sheet to get under it with her… Her bandaged hand is uppermost, and I don’t want to hurt it. On second thoughts, I keep the sheet high so I can see her. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts and nothing else. The dress, now only an ugly memory, is buried in the trash.

Fuck me, though, she faced off Kasimir and tried to defend me.

That says everything.

Almost everything. No one is ever one hundred percent trustworthy. Though her lying there lightly snoring, with my white T-shirt barely covering her butt, is quickening the part of my soul that has not seen the sun since my childhood when my mother was alive.

I recall my mother’s smile and laughter and little else.

What will I do with you, Izzy? I lower the sheet and worm in until we are one, spooning, her softer body moving against mine with each breath.

“Hmmm?” she murmurs. I catch her hand in mine, curl her fingers under.

“Sleep,” I whisper.

“I was. I’m stuck awake now.” She peers back at me, shifts halfway onto her back, then hisses. “Owie. It hurts when the sheet touches the stitches.”

“I know. It will heal.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m wondering how to train you so that you are a good little obedient kitten for me.”

She snorts softly and rolls her eyes, though there’s a smile on her lips.

I prop myself onto my elbow.

“Since you’re awake, tell me how you are going to not write or say anything bad about Kasimir? I know you know that today is not the first time we have done things like this.”

She grunts, worries the corner of her lip with her teeth. “It…will be hard?”

“God. The honesty in that is killing me.”

“Why?”