“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I stabbed you.”
“Yes, and I’m mostly healed.”
She bit her lip. “Seriously?”
I turned around in response, lifting the back of my shirt so she could check under the bandage. Her warm fingers had me gritting my teeth against the arousal as she gently moved the bandage out of the way. One finger traced over the stitched-up wound, but there was no pain.
“It doesn’t hurt?” she asked.
Shaking my head, I hissed when her palm skimmed up my back. My scars were there, on full display. I never showed them to anyone, let alone let anyone touch them. Only Mercury.
The second- and third-degree burns covered the more traumatic scarring that would have been present—the stab wounds. Sometimes my skin itched, but for the most part I had less sensation in the areas where I was burned.
It didn’t feel that way right now, with her hands exploring my back.
“Don’t touch him,” Mercury barked.
Kiara’s hand stopped moving, and I glanced back over my shoulder to find he was holding her wrist. He’d moved closer without me even noticing. I’d been lost in the gentle touch.
“Oh, um, sorry,” Kiara whispered.
“It’s fine,” I said. “You can touch them.”
Mercury’s grip slipped on her wrist, his brown eyes wide. He was visibly ruffled, and I knew he felt it too. She was perfect. He just didn’t want to admit it.
“No, I overstepped,” she said.
Her hand didn’t touch me again and I lamented the loss. Adjusting the bandages back over my nearly healed wound, I let my shirt drop down to cover me again.
“Have you iced your bruises yet this morning?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“I’ll get it for you. We want to keep you as comfortable as possible.”
A tiny smile twitched at the corners of her lips. She murmured a soft, “Thank you.”
I looked at Mercury and he got the hint, following me into the kitchen. We closed the French doors behind us, blocking our conversation from Dash and Kiara. Hopefully, Dash could behave with her for five minutes. If he couldn’t, he’d be feeling Leighton’s wrath. I was pretty sure he wanted her furious, at this point.
“You left.” I tried not to portray how it hurt me. I’d gotten heated last night, but we were usually great at coming back to conversations when we’d had a chance to calm down.
Mercury shuffled from foot to foot. The sour expression he’d been wearing out in the living room wasn’t present anymore. He knew better than to put on that front with me. “Dash was playing with fire. Well, with Kiara’s knife. I had to come here.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t going to just leave him.”
“He’s an adult. He can handle himself, baby.”
“Don’t call me that.” His voice broke. His aura was tumultuous, old books and cinnamon spiking and softening in the air.
It was an impulse. One I had trouble suppressing, because I wanted him to be mine again—desperately. Finding solace in Leighton over the past year had been the only thing keeping me sane. I didn’t know how he’d kept himself together. Pure willpower, I supposed. Mercury was stubborn.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “But the point is that you don’t have to watch his every move. If he’s going to run himself into the ground, that’s his prerogative. You’ve been watching over him for six fucking years.”
Our scent match had rejected us so long ago that for me, it was a distant memory. I’d never cared much. Mercury had been hurt, but he would have left it in the past if not for Dash.
