She sighs, opening her mouth to respond, but the creak of the metal steps cuts her off. Sylvester reaches the bottom floor, hobbles through the kitchen toward us until we come into view, stops to take one look at us, and then rushes over as quickly as his wooden peg will carry him.
“What happened to ’er?” he asks, crowding over her to inspect her injury.
“Give her some space,” I snap. Sylvester huffs but backs away.
“I fell,” Sawyer explains sheepishly, shrugging her shoulder. “’Tis nothing but a flesh wound.”
I cast a look to Sylvester. “I’m taking her upstairs. She has a concussion and needs to relax.”
“Well, all right then,” he agrees easily, stepping farther away.
Sawyer goes to stand, but I swoop her in my arms before she can take a step. A little gasp slips from her pink lips, and once more, that desire to taste them arises.
“I can walk.”
“You’ve proven you can fall, too.”
Her face twists into a snarl, aiming a glare my way. She looks like an angry kitten. This close, I can see how bright her eyes are, with a darker navy-blue outer ring.
A buzz forms beneath my skin, and now that I’m no longer distracted by her wound, having her this close is dangerous. It feels too fucking good, and rather than my typical anger, it terrifies me. I’ve faced far worse, yet a five-foot-nothing nymph is what brings me to my knees. I want her out of my fucking head, but she’s in too deep.
I feel Sylvester’s eyes burning into my back as I carry her up the stairs and into our room. When I set her down this time, it’s less gentle. I’m still angry she nearly killed herself, and the prospect of that is debilitating.
A puff of breath shoots from her lungs, and another glare is burning into my face.
“Thanks,” she mutters. “Call us even, I guess.”
I arch a brow. “Call us even for what?”
Her eyes swirl with an emotion I can’t put a name to.
“I saved your life, you saved mine.”
I frown. What the fuck is she talking about?
“Is this another one of your lies?”
Her features twist, and in a matter of seconds, the cute angry kitty grows into a fierce lioness.
“No,” she bites out. “Do you think you washed up on this shore by luck?”
I stare at her, processing her implication.
“You were knocked out cold, and I swam us here.”
What… the fuck.
I clench my jaw. I don’t know what the fuck I’m feeling, but whatever it is has my knees threatening to crash to the ground with reverence.
Tightening her lips, she turns her head away, and my eyes latch onto how her blonde curls have turned bright red on the back.
“You need to shower,” I say. She flicks her gaze at me, appearing affronted that I changed the subject.
I have plenty to say, and I will make sure she hears it, but only when I feel like I can speak without wanting to simultaneously stick my tongue down her throat.
Clearing her throat, she stands and begins to brush past me, but my hand lands on the flat planes of her stomach, stopping her in place.
I turn my head, a fire rising in my chest when I hear the little pants coming from her mouth and the goosebumps prickling her flesh.
“Let me help you with that, bella ladra.”
Chapter 21
Sawyer
What a little shithead. I did die, and he’s just trying to convince me Heaven is real before he pulls back the veil and reveals a hellfire that will burn me alive.
There’s a flutter deep in the pit of my stomach, steadily growing stronger until the flap of wings has morphed into the breath of a dragon. I’m already burning alive, and only his hand has touched me.
I wet my dry lips, my tongue darting out for no more than a second, but his eyes have latched onto my mouth, the blaze within them powerful. It’s then I realize he is the hellfire.
His hand slides away, and with only a moment of hesitation, I walk past him. I feel him fall in step behind me, scorching a hole into my back.
I coerce my muscles to relax as I walk straight across the hall and into the tiny bathroom. It’s barely big enough to fit a standin shower on the right side and the sink and toilet on the left.
Swallowing nervously, he brushes past me to turn the nozzle, the spray stuttering before the stream evens out. The water pressure is awful, which usually calls for long showers.
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not yet.
He turns to me, leaning against the wall next to the stall, and crosses his arms. Flicking his sharp gaze down my body, he commands, “Undress.”