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“Think I pissed her off.”
“It’s an everyday occurrence, trust me.” Connor studied the face he knew like his own. “Can’t do much for the tooth, but I can improve the rest of it. Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
Caleb scowled, but a snort escaped, resulting in a grimace. “Only you would offer to fix what you broke. You’re good at your job, Connor. It’s what you were put here to do, I shouldn’t have called that into question. Insulting that girl was below the belt, even for me. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for it.”
The last of the angry tension eased. Clapping a hand on Cal’s shoulder, Connor steered him toward the kitchen. “Me too, Cal. Me too.”
*
Blood. Splatters and streaks of blood.
Dazed, Jenna stared at the droplets on the floor and wondered where she was bleeding from this time. How badly had Sire hurt her for the blood to be over there while she was here? Didn’t take much, she knew from experience, for blood to travel, not when the velocity behind the hit was strong enough.
“You shouldn’t be sitting up, sweetheart.” The nurse stood in front of her, blocking the blood from view. Soft hands cupped Jenna’s face and tipped it back. “I honest to God don’t know how you keep doing this. I know Connor only sedates you lightly, but you’re sat up and your eyes are heavy enough to sink a ship.”
Connor. Where was Connor? He’d been here a minute ago, hadn’t he? Jenna frowned with the effort of remembering. Yes, he had. He’d been shouting and…the blood had been on him. His hands, his face, his clothes.
Shouting…at her?
“Breathing’s good, sweetheart. That’s a start. Let’s check your pulse, make sure your heart’s playing the game.” Firm fingers gripped her wrist.
No. Jenna tugged half-heartedly.
“How much of that conversation did you hear, Jenna?” Sarah’s eyes bore into hers as though she could pluck the thoughts right out of her head. “I’m guessing not much. Good. Those idiots want their heads knocking together. Always been a volatile pair when their tempers are riled. Cain, now he’s fiery when it’s warranted. Likes to keep his own brand of law and order in the bar.”
Images pinged through her brain. Hands on her, groping at her. Her fingers clutching at a lifeline; the lifeline gathering her up and carrying her away. She needed her lifeline.
The floor seemed to be miles away from her toes. She leaned forward, stretching to reach the white tiles with her bare foot, but they ebbed and flowed, smooth white waves taunting her.
“Whoa, Jenna!” Arms came around her as she pitched forward, held her in place when she sagged against a warm, small body. Not the tall, strong one that usually caught her. “Time to get you back down, sweetheart, before we both end up in a heap.”
She had to mop the blood up before Sire came home and saw it. She knew he liked to see the marks of her punishment on her flesh, but he hated it—hated it—when evidence of her transgressions remained in the sanctity of his home.
The world tilted on its axis, simply rolled onto its side. Stayed there for a few moments while her body rocked on the table. Something cool and comfy slid under her cheek.
“Took you long enough, Connor. What did you do, run to Helena and back for new clothes?”
“Caleb took longer than I thought. Jenna okay?”
“Aside from the last twenty minutes where she’s been staring at her feet and trying to stand up, she’s okay. I don’t think she’s heard half of what I’ve said to her, and I only managed to get her down about ten minutes ago after she toppled off the table.”
“Let’s get this done while she’s quiet. I need a shot of painkillers and antibiotics. Make sure we have a small dose of sedation to hand in case we need to slide her under at any point. This suturing could take some time.” Rough, warm skin skimmed over her shoulder. “Jenna, baby, are you awake?”
Drifting again, she curled her fingers in response. There was a hum in her throat, poised to break free if she just gave it the freedom.
“Nearly out. Start cleaning the wounds. They’re deep, so we’ll have to dig down. The infection’s starting somewhere.”
Hands tipped her, adjusted her, until she sprawled on her belly again.
Her lovely drifting was jarred by liquid fire racing over her shoulder. Oh, she didn’t like this. This was worse than when Sire found the bathmat in the master bathroom askew with a drop of bleach on the corner of the fluffy purple material.
He’d beaten her with the dowel rod of the towel rack until the welts blistered and split, then rubbed them with bleach. Of course, the bathmat had been ruined with blood and bleach by the time the lesson was over, but Sire had just ordered her to clean up the mess and use a new set from the cupboard.
She’d been unable to scream, though her lungs were fit to burst from agony, and barely able to move. Her skin had felt as though it bubbled, raw flesh melting under acid. Ever the obedient one, she’d dragged herself inch by inch to complete the task he’d set her.
But this was punishment for something she hadn’t done, a mistake she hadn’t made. Her broken fingernails dug into the solid surface of the table, pushing against it to arch away from the pain.
“Shit! Stop, stop!”
