The Wild Heir(49)

“Me hurt myself? You’re the one who treated me like target practice.”

The corner of his lips curve into a smile and it’s only now that I’m realizing how close my face is to his. I’ve never noticed the streaks of green in his mahogany eyes before, how long and dark his lashes are, the low arch of his brows. Good lord, he’s stunning.

But the feeling doesn’t last very long.

Because blood is pouring off my nose at very close range to this stunning man.

Stunning man? It’s only Magnus, I have to remind myself.

“Is it just your nose that hurts or do you think your brain was affected?” he asks after a moment.

“Huh?”

“The way you’re looking at me,” he says slowly, the pink of his tongue appearing between his lips.

“How am I looking at you?”

Wait, I don’t want to know.

“Like you might actually like me.”

I can’t help but smile. But smiling brings a sharp jolt of pain to my nose.

“Uuugh,” I moan, shutting my eyes to him, to everything. Jeez, I admire the guy in my head and his ego somehow already knows and is running with it.

“I’ve got the kit!” Ottar says, and I hear his footsteps against the wood floors as he runs over, out of breath. “And towels for the mess. I’ll put them down on the couch.”

Magnus takes me over to one of the couches and gently lowers me down on it, then gets down on his knees beside it so he’s at my level.

“Ottar I need a wet warm washcloth, stat!” he barks.

“Yes, sir!” Ottar says and runs off again.

Meanwhile Magnus is smiling to himself.

“What?” I ask.

“I just enjoy ordering him around so much.”

I roll my eyes. “Always have to be in charge, huh?”

“Something like that,” he says, placing his hand over mine and trying to pry it away. “Let me see your nose.”

Gingerly, I let him take my hand away and he leans in closer, inspecting it.

“How is it?”

“Oh it’s just awful,” he says and I have no idea if he’s pulling my leg or not.

My eyes widen at that as Ottar sticks his hand in front of us, a wet cloth dangling from his fingers. Magnus snatches it up and very gently proceeds to dab the cloth on my face.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he says.

It does hurt. Every dab makes my eyes sting, sends lightning bolts of pain into my brain. But I don’t say anything because I know it needs to be done.

And honestly, I think I like him doting on me like this. He’s surprisingly gentle and I watch him as he concentrates, dark brows furrowed together, biting his lower lip. There’s a strange tenderness and intimacy to this whole thing.

I think Ottar picks up on it too because he says, “Do you need anything else, sir?”

“I’ve got it from here, thank you.”

Ottar walks off and Magnus does a final wipe down the side of my nose. I keep my attention off the cloth which I know is soaked with my blood. Then again, so are both of us.

“There,” he says softly, tilting his head back and forth as he looks me over.

“Does it look broken?” I ask him. I would hate to have a broken nose. It already has a crooked bump in the middle of it as it is, though Jane is fairly insistent that it’s all in my head.

“It’s a bit swollen and it’s going to leave a nasty bruise, maybe even two black eyes,” he says. “Good thing you’re not going anywhere.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, I’m sorry about that,” he says, reaching up and brushing a strand of hair off my face. My skin erupts with shivers from the rough feel of his fingers, the curious way he’s gazing at me.

It leaves me momentarily tongue-tied and confused. This is a side of him I haven’t seen yet and I’m not sure I like how it makes me feel.

How it scares me in ways I don’t want to articulate.

“Sorry about what?” I eventually say.

“That my body is so amazing,” he says, straight-faced. “It really wasn’t fair. How can you concentrate on tennis balls when you’ve got my own balls on your mind?”

“Magnus,” I warn, not letting myself smile again. It will hurt way too much. “Not now. Please.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t have been showing off my yogurt slinger like that,” he says.

“Your…what?”

And then it’s over. I burst out laughing, crying out in pain at the same time. “Ow, ow, ow. Damn it, Magnus. You need to get your head checked.”

“Which head?”

“Stop!” I’m alternating between crying and laughing. “This isn’t fair. Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

He grins at me, a softness coming over his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to make you laugh like that. You’re so fucking beautiful, Ella.”

Oh.

Oh.

Did he seriously just say that? Was it a joke?

I stare at him, my smile faltering slightly.

He shrugs. “Too bad you have to deal with Prince Shitbag here.” He pauses and sits back a bit. “Honestly, though, I am sorry for that. I don’t know what came over me out there. I didn’t mean to get all aggressive and hit it so hard, and I certainly didn’t want to hurt you. I guess I get a bit too competitive.”