Page 65 of Primal Hunger
“I’m not the one who needs to worry. It hurt you,” I grind out.
“Its tail cut my ankle and my arms are sliced up. I tried to defend myself.” Her voice is reedy and small.
Even from here, I can see she’s ashen from the loss of blood. And she’s still worried about me.
Pride filters through me. Yes, she did her best.
“Let me help you. It’s going to be okay,” I soothe.
“It hurts.” She cries, and the slight movement has fresh blood dripping from her wounds. “Everything hurts.”
“I’m going to make it better, little human.”
She’s immobile when I bend to take her in my arms. Drawing her up, I head back to thecabin, limping slightly.
I’m going to make it all better.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Erin
Islowly swim up through unconsciousness yet again, although I don’t want to actually wake up this time. Not when I know what’s waiting for me.
Fear, uncertainty, life or death a knife edge away from each other.
But my body is bound, unable to move, and oddly warm. My fingers twitch, and the soft surface beneath my fingers…that’s fur.
I’m inside the cabin again.
I come to wrapped in cloth—and he said he had no bandages or gauze—opening my eyes to see the fireplace back to a dull roar and soft atmospheric music wafting from the radio. It takes a long moment for my mind to put the pieces together.
I was here, with Syros, tending to his wounds when the creature attacked again. This time, the fight was nothing but a blur, and I was in the middle of it, struggling to free myself, struggling to survive.
Then Syros—
He must have saved me because I’m here and I’m alive.
Carefully, I lift my hand to my face, staring at the bandages covering me, made from the cloths he used to wash me in the bath.
Syros stares at the radio with a distant expression on his skull face. Lost in thought.How do I know that?
He hovers over it, his arms loose at his side.
I must make a sound because, once he sees me awake, he hurries over.
“Erin. Are you all right?”
Yes.No. I’m not exactly sure.
He turned on the radio for me, made sure I was comfortable, nestled in the bed of furs.
Syros kneels at my side, his tongue flicking out to lick over his sharp canines, his eyes a dull red as he scans me.
“You will answer me.” He draws the pads of his fingers over my face to push back my hair, giving him a better view of my expressions, and I swallow hard.
“You’re going to fawn over me, now?” I ask.
