John smirked. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like my lips on you, Aran.”
My stomach clenched. Violently.
For a long second, I struggled to breathe. Finally I found my voice and said, “You’re a shit healer. Also, Sadie is my best friend, so you’re still in second place.”
Instead of frowning like I expected, John flicked my nose. “It’s so cute that you don’t think I’m going to eliminate her and take her spot.”
He had to be joking.
John smiled indulgently.
“You know you can’t kill my best friend and expect to just take her place,” I said slowly. “I’d never forgive you.” Those were words I’d never expected to have to say.
John laughed like I’d made a joke. “First, yes, I can. Second, you’d eventually forgive me because I’m so charming, bestie.”
I twirled my pipe with my lips and inhaled drugs.
Instead of responding to his inane statements, I focused my energy on what was important: I needed to find a student with access to demon brew so I could get fucked up.
High and drunk.
ASAP.
There were open wounds covering every inch of exposed skin that I could see, and I was not mentally ready to deal with it. At least my clothes were still intact, so no one had seen my back. It was a minor miracle.
I needed to know what type of fabric they used. Talk about durability.
John’s gaze fell to my lips as I rolled the pipe back and forth with my tongue.
His Adam’s apple bobbed.
I blinked.
He parted his maroon lips. “On a more serious note, rumor is that whoever’s running this competition put something in the academy food so it takes longer for competitors to recover from injuries. Which is why you still look like that.” He waved his hands at me and grimaced.
“Wait, what?” I stopped staring at my friend’s neck like a creep and took stock of the injuries I’d been trying to ignore.
Streaks of pain let me know I had more gaping wounds under the sheet.
Now that I thought about it, after three days of sleep, my skin should have already knitted back together.
It hadn’t.
“Don’t worry,” John said with a serious inflection that made me immediately panic. “The first aid kit had a needle and thread, so we’ll just stitch you up. I’ve been too busy positioning your parts to help your natural healing, so now it looks like it’s time for step two. The little bandage was just some comedic humor before I started sewing.”
He winked and held up a needle and thread.
The blood coating his fingers to his forearms took on a whole new meaning.
“Oh my sun god, you’re not joking?” I asked.
John nodded. “I need you to think calm, peaceful princess thoughts and—”
I screamed and reared back as he stabbed me.
Instead of giving up like a sane person, John just rocked with me and kept sewing.
“Stop it,” I demanded with outrage.
The stabbing sensation sent pain exploding, but the pulling sensation that followed had my stomach rolling. John stuck his tongue out between his teeth as he concentrated.
He narrowed his eyes as he stared at my arm wound and mumbled, “You’re doing amazing, Princess, just about five hundred more little stabby stabs.”
“This can’t be happening,” I said as the horrible sensation washed over me.
John said calmly, “Corvus stitched up Orion, and then the demons helped Scorpius stitch Corvus. We think the string is enchanted because they healed about twelve hours after they fixed them.”
A part of me melted at the thought of Malum stitching up his mate while he was injured himself. It made my heart hurt.
The long silver needle glinted in the light, and I grimaced.
“Why aren’t they sewing me up, then? Are you sure you’re qualified?” I asked John skeptically.
John’s expression hardened, and his eyes flashed. “No one touches you but me.”
He stabbed me again.
I grimaced, then stated the obvious, “Slightly concerning that you just said that.”
John winked. “The truth hurts.” His posture relaxed as he stabbed me again.
“You’re so weird,” I groaned as the horrible sensation of thread pulling through flesh lasted for a couple of long seconds. “I’d prefer to bleed out slowly.”
John narrowed his eyes as he concentrated on closing my wound. He said, “I hate to bring this up, but neither Corvus nor Orion made a single noise of complaint while the demons stitched them.”
“I don’t care,” I huffed.
In reality, if I lost to them, I’d off myself.
John pushed the needle through my flesh and I didn’t make a single noise of complaint.
Instead, I lay backward on the makeshift cot and exhaled Horse. He hovered over my face, flapping, and stared down at me like he knew I needed the distraction.
I counted his feathers.
One at a time.
I inhaled as much of the enchanted drugs as I could and pretended I wasn’t getting stabbed by my friend.
Time ticked by slowly.
The only sound was John whispering encouragements every few seconds.
“You’re doing amazing,” he praised. “You’re so fucking strong and impressive.” He started sewing up another wound and murmured, “That’s it, just breathe slowly, Princess.”
Everything was a jumble of pain.
Seconds bled slowly into minutes, then dragged into hours.
“Good girl, such a good girl,” John mumbled under his breath absentmindedly as he worked on a gash on my forehead.
Suddenly, I forgot how to breathe.
A different type of pain streaked across my spine.
He’s your friend, don’t make it weird. You’re just confused and have lost a lot of blood.
I was not falling for a man just because he was nice to me.
That was pathetic.
John’s dark hair was messy, and my blood was streaked across his sweaty face. He smiled down at me tenderly and whispered, “I’m so proud of you. I just need to stitch your torso, then you’re done.”
His words had something foreign unfurling in my gut, something new.
A floaty sensation made my brain feel all fuzzy.
I smiled up at him and nodded because I wanted to impress him. I’d do whatever I needed if it made him smile down at me like I was his entire world.
Yep. I was officially pathetic.
I yanked my shirt up to my neck to expose my torso.
John’s smile fell. “What the hell are you doing?” Before I could respond, he pulled my shirt down over my chest to protect my modesty.
“It’s nothing, it’s just a sports bra and boobs.” I shrugged, too tired to care that my best friend was a prude.
Half my skin was hanging open, exposing my organs. It was a little late to care what I looked like.
John shook his head and said, “Our teammates could wake up.”
“So?” I rolled my eyes.
He clenched his jaw, and a muscle ticked as he busied himself tying a new string around the needle. His olive skin pulled across the tight muscles of his torso.
“No one gets to look at you,” he murmured as he stabbed at the open skin on my stomach.
I didn’t get to respond because I jolted in pain. The sensation was ten times worse across my sensitive stomach.