“Kyanite.” He crosses the tent, grabs my arm, and pulls me from the bed. “I cannot leave you with a dead man all night, and you’re bleeding. You’ll come with me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Leave me.” It would be easier to be with the dead than this man capable of viciously murdering someone much larger.
Instead of heeding my pleas, Gabriel tightens his grip on my arm and leads me from the tent. Away from the dead man. Away from the brutality. Away from the only sanctuary I built while imprisoned by the Bloodstone people.
If Gabriel is willing to kill one of his own, he’ll kill anyone. Harm anyone. Destroy anyone.
I’m next.
ChapterSeven
Night crushes me as Gabriel leads me through the center of the camp and toward a tent that is bigger than the one the Bloodstone imprisoned me in. He lifts the flap and guides me into the well-lit interior.
The moment the flap settles into place and he frees me, I stumble a half step away from him and jerk my chin up. “Kill me quickly.”
He folds his arms.
“I don’t care to be a victim,” I say. “So, make it quick.”
“Do you think,” he begins, his words low and lined with annoyance, “that I would rescue you, dispatch your assailant, and then kill you too?”
I jab my right thumb into my left palm, sinking my nail into my flesh. “Yes.”
Gabriel scoffs and moves to a nearby shelf. “I brought you here, so you wouldn’t be forced to spend the night with a dead man.”
“A dead man cannot fight back,” I say. “Besides, I prefer him to you.”
Something about watching Gabriel murder my assailant freed my tongue and it left my emotions raw and torn.
Gabriel turns, holding a clean cloth. “Sit.” He nods toward the bed.
“No.” I’d rather sit on a cactus than onthatbed.
It may be his.
I scan the room. No furniture, other than a washing stand and two shelves, inhabits the space. I hug my arms around my body and will this night to be over.
Before I comprehend his intentions, he crosses the tent, grabs my arm, and brings me to the edge of the bed. He pushes me to the mattress with a firm hand against my shoulder.
“I didn’t ask,” he says.
Frustration explodes through my veins at the sheer audacity of this man. I quell it the moment he shoves the cloth against my cheek. I gasp and try to jerk away. He grips the back of my neck, keeping me from squirming. Pain smarts against my skin as he holds the material tight. Earlier, I hadn’t remembered the injury.
“You’re the worst patient I have ever attended,” he grumbles.
“That’s because I’m not a patient. Release me.”
If anything, his hold tightens.
“Gabriel,” I begin, my tone as frigid as ice, “let me go.”
“I will when you stop bleeding.”
“I’d rather bleed all over this tent.”Than to be indebted to you.“Now, release me.”
He doesn’t listen. He does nothing but hold that damn material to my face. I exhale as his grip against my neck loosens, and he raises my face enough to meet his silver-blue eyes.
“You will not die tonight, Kyanite.”
