“I don’t want to see.”
A hand covered my eyes while his other arm supported my weight. Don whispered, “You don’t have to look.”
My feet left the ground and my breath whooshed out of my lungs. I was moving, but I couldn’t see anything. Oddly, I didn’t care. Don had me.
Gently, Don set me down on the couch and crouched in front of me. His eyebrows were drawn together, and his mouth was a hard line. Not thinking about it, I brushed my fingertips over his forehead to ease the tension. With a deep inhale, he closed his eyes. I traced his face and left red streaks behind. Numb, Istudied my hands. The knuckles were split and bleeding while my fingers were swollen.
“You hurt yourself,” Don said.
I had. I didn’t feel it, though. My body was distant and my thoughts were deep in a mire that I couldn’t escape.
“Vince.”
I stared at my damaged hands. My broken hands.
“Vince,” Don repeated, voice harsh.
My eyes shot to his. Don stared at me with those huge green eyes of his. I rested my palm over them. Right now, I couldn’t handle the pity that must be there.
“There is no pity,” he replied to my thoughts. “Only concern. You harmed yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I said, voice light.
“You are not.”
“I am.”
Carefully, he pulled my hand away from his eyes and grabbed my other, so both were trapped in his much larger ones. I felt him. I felt the warmth of him seeping into my cold digits.
“I must apologize for touching you without permission,” Don said, and I tightened my hold on him, afraid he would pull away. I had missed this—touching with no expectation of more. I was starved for it, yet terrified of it. Pathetic. “No.” Don drew closer, his head near mine. “No, Little Warrior. Not pathetic. Never that. You’re fighting a battle right now. A battle of the mind.”
A tear slid down my cheek, and I looked away.
He brushed it away before snagging my hand again. “Please don’t harm yourself.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I snapped. “I’m fine.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t contradict me.
I kept tight hold of his hands, leaning closer so I could breathe in the comforting sweetness of his scent. It was similar tovanilla, and yet… softer, lighter somehow. I closed my eyes and breathed. I needed to let what happened go. It didn’t matter.
Don started to hum a low tune, and I relaxed even further until my forehead rested against his.
Slowly, awareness crept back into my body, and with it, a deep throbbing stab from my damaged hands. I was fairly certain I’d broken something, but the bleeding had finally stopped.
“I got blood on you,” I whispered.
Don lifted my damaged hand to his mouth and pressed it against his lips. “It’s fine.”
I swallowed.
His eyes flashed up to mine, lips brushing my skin and setting it ablaze. “I would lick these clean if you allowed me to.”
“W-what?” I forced out, pulse in my throat.
“Drakcol have an instinct to clean wounds. I will clean yours, Vince, if you allow me.”
Never in my life had I nodded so fast. The thought of his tongue on my skin… Shudders went down my spine and settled somewhere in the region of my dick.
