Page 19 of Wraith
Chapter Eighteen
Surprise hitsme when I’m able to crack my eyes open and find I’m alive. She didn’t kill me. I had hoped—but didn’t expect—that she would let me live. The question now is, why? “You have been out for over twenty-four hours and you lost a lot of blood.” Her voice comes from the bed, above me. Craning my neck upward toward the owner of the soft voice my body shifts and protests from the movement. I’m on the floor. It’s not making me feel any better either. My ribs ache, rivaling the feeling of being hit by a Mack truck, and as I breathe I quickly learn to take slow shallowbreaths.
“You didn’t kill me,” I state causing her to let out a choked snort she clearly wanted tohide.
“Yeah, well I didn’t think I would get much satisfaction suffocating you after you passed out from blood loss.”She wants anopponent.
“Give me a few hours and I will be right as rain to face you. I will be a formidable match.” The laugh she lets out isn’t shielded this time around and I find my cock—despite the pain—thickening under the blanket draped over me. Shifting to a more comfortable position I take in the fact that I’m in only myjeans.
“You get yourself a good look?” Sitting up I let the blankets drop down to reveal my bandagedside.
“The bullet that hit you went right through but may have hit a rib on its way out,” she explains, ignoring my question about the peep show she more than likely had while I was out. Not that I care, my body is more than nice to look at. And I’m not just being cocky, well, maybe a little but I do like to state theobvious.
“Who shot me?” I know she has an idea, if not already knows who it is, but she shakes herhead.
“No clue,” she lies as she climbs from the bed and passes me to go to the kitchen area. She makes herself at home heating up a can of soup then produces a slice of meet from my icebox under the countertop. I watch her silently as she glides about the small area, so graceful and calculated. It’s now that I notice her hair is waist length, almost black with a blue shine to it. Like a raven’s feathers. When I tossed her on the bed and tied her wrists to the posts it was tied back, not flowing free like it is now. She is in the tank top and jeans I tore off of her before I tied her to the bed. The small cabin feels warmer than I usually keep it, which means she has probably burned up more fuel than I allow the fire to burn in oneday.
“Eat. You need to regain your strength, if you are going to be aformidable match.” She cocks her dark eyebrow at me throwing my words back with a smirk and bends down to hand me a plate complete with small slices of cooked meat tossed with some vegetablesoup.
“Glad you didn’t let the meat spoil, would have been a shame. Since I nearly died getting it and all.” I take a bite of the cooked meat and suppress a groan, fuck it is good to have fresh meat. “Damn near didn’t get it back with some asshole shooting at me,” I say gauging her reaction but only get the same nonchalant attitude as before. “If you don’t know who shot me, why did you board this place up like you are expecting a siege?” My eyes flick to the covered window then to the barricadeddoor.
“Someone shot you,” she deadpans, still expressionless, “and I know who you are. Makes sense that others would be coming after you as well.” I let out a small chuckle forgetting that my rib is severely bruised, if not broken, and blinding pain slices through my side. Clutching at the bandage I apply a little pressure in attempt to ward away the pain but it doesn’t do much. Fuck! Why didn’t I bring a bag of oxy or even some weed with mehere?
“Which brings me to the question. How the fuck didyoufind me? I have been hidden for quite some time, girl, so it surprises the fuck out of me that someone like you could pin point mylocation.”
“Someone like me?” she asks, clearly annoyed, from her perch on the bed once again, no doubt clutching some form of weapon in the hand that is no longer visible tome.
“Like you. What are you? Twelve?” She nearly gives an eye roll but stopsherself.
“You really should rest. You never know when whoever it is that shot you will come back to finish the job,” she tells me shoveling another bite of soup into hermouth.
“Or I could just wait for you to do it.” She stops at those words, looking meover.
“Trust me, if I wanted to just put you out of your misery you would be out of it already. Now eat. I don’t like hearing the sound of your voice,” she snaps, continuing to eat her food and ignoring any further attempts I have at making conversation. The girl can put her solar ice caps firmly into place when she sets her mind to it. Cold. But what the fuck made her so damncold?
Or rather,who?
