Page 6 of Witch's Moon
He caught the look and frowned. “What’s the matter? Still in pain? Do you need another shot?”
She shook her head. She wanted no more drugs.
“You do speak, don’t you? I know you can make a noise—you scream loud enough.”
She glowered at him.
With a shrug, he crossed the room toward her. He switched on the lamp by the bed and stood, staring down at her, arms folded across his broad chest.
“I’m going to take a look at that wound,” he said. “Don’t scream. Don’t fight. Don’t move. Okay?”
She nodded. As he bent over her, the sharp musky scent of his body filled her nostrils. Awareness surged, heat washing over her, and she drew back slightly.
He stopped and glanced at her face. “What?”
She wrinkled her nose.
“I smell? Yeah, well, so do you, but then, neither of us have showered for a while. Now you’re better, perhaps we can do something about that. Just let me look at this first.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, his muscular thigh far too close for comfort, and Regan pulled the sheet tighter around her. The gesture was futile since he must have seen her naked countless times over the last couple of days.
She steeled herself to peer down, as he peeled away the bandage. She frowned; she could just see the edges of a red scar curling around her shoulder. The wound appeared almost mended, as if it had had two weeks’ worth of healing rather than two days.
He stroked one long finger over the mark. Her skin prickled, and she shifted uncomfortably.
“I don’t think you need another bandage,” he said.
Regan opened her mouth then closed it again.
He grinned. “I thought you were going to be a problem.” He considered her, head cocked to one side. “You have that ‘problem’ look about you, but you know what? I think I like you. Silence in a woman is an underrated commodity.”
She glared at him, and his lips twitched.
“Right, I’m going to sort out some coffee and food. Why don’t you go have a shower?”
He made to stand up, but Regan reached out a hand and rested it on his thigh. The muscles tensed under her palm. He paused, one eyebrow raised in query.
She pointed at the chain round her throat.
He looked at it. “Yeah, nice necklace. So?”
She rolled her eyes. He wasn’t going to make this easy. Or perhaps he was just stupid. She obviously needed two hands for this. She tucked the sheet firmly under her arms and used her hands to make a snapping gesture.
“You want me to break it?”
At last!She nodded.
“Why?”
Did he have to be so difficult? She wanted to scream,just do it,but if she could do that, she wouldn’t need him. She could just turn him into a toad and get the hell out of there.
She took a deep breath. She could do this.Please,she mouthed.
He grinned then shrugged. “It’s your necklace.”
He leaned in closer, reached out, and looped the chain through one finger. His other hand rested on her shoulder, warm and hard against her bare skin. She held her breath.
“Sure you want me to break it?” he asked.
