Down and Out(36)

She rolls her eyes, but her face is alight with humor as she wraps her arms around my neck. I hug her to me, powering through the pain lancing down my sides.
Our bodies fit perfectly. Like she straight-up melds to me, and that’s not a word I go around using.
I even bury my face in her hair.
After several seconds, when it ceases being a hug and starts venturing into “I’m just holding you now” territory, I let her go. She pulls back, blinks, and drops her eyes to my mouth.
Yeah. . . I’m thinking the same thing, Kitten.
“See?” I say, brushing the ends of her ponytail.
She nods, keeping her eyes down. I swear her cheeks turn a little pinker.
Reaching up, her fingers graze the huge blue-black mess covering my chest. “I don’t like these.” She purses her lips and trails her fingertips to the right, across the blue, yellow, and white swirls inspired by Van Gogh’s Starry Night that stretch across my shoulder. “The only color on your skin should look like this.”
A tiny laugh leaves me, and I immediately regret it. Every muscle in my torso screams in protest as I wince and clutch my sides.
Savannah pales as her frantic eyes look me over. “Declan? Are you okay?”
My head strains back into the pillows behind me as I nod, and the grimace twisting my face has my bottom lip feeling like it’s about to split apart.
She gets up and leaves, but I’m in too much pain to ask where she’s going. I hear the water running in the bathroom before she comes back in and sits next to me, placing a cup on the nightstand next to her.
Sweat has started to sprout on my forehead as I struggle with managing the pain, and as she dips a washcloth into the cup and wrings it out, I realize what she’s doing.
I still as she brings it up and dabs my forehead, her eyes soft and almost tender as she works. I wince again as she touches a sore spot on my eyebrow.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, frowning as she jerks back. “You have a pretty nasty cut there.”
Ah. That’s why it stings something fierce.
Bringing the rag to her lap, she searches my face, her eyes lingering over what I’m sure looks like hell. “What happened last night?”
I stare back at her, unwilling to share this part of my life. The less she knows about it, the better. “I tripped and fell.”
She glares at me and moves to leave. My hand shoots out and catches her wrist, anchoring her to the bed.
“Don’t go.”
Her mouth presses into a hard line as she jerks out of my grip. “How dare you make a joke about this. When I found you last night. . .” She shakes her head, her eyes growing shiny.
Shit. It had to have been a grisly scene, judging from the blood splattered across her clothes. “Kitten, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” Her bottom lip trembles as she fights to hold back her tears. “Tell me what happened, or I’m leaving.”
I sigh and say, “I got jumped when I left. They must’ve been waiting for me, ’cause I didn’t see it coming.”
She frowns. “Do you know who did it?”
“I didn’t recognize any of them, but I have an idea who’s behind it.”
Her eyes watch my lips as I speak. “Who?”
“The guy whose ass I was supposed to kick tonight.”
At her confused stare, I say, “I’m the top fighter in an underground organization called The Pit. I was supposed to fight this guy named Kerrigan tonight, but. . .” I gesture to my currently battered state. “It looks like that’s not gonna happen.”
Savannah looks mad enough for the both of us, which only makes me like her more. “So that’s it? He just gets away with it?”
“Hell no.”
This seems to mollify her. “Good. I hope you tear off his limbs and beat him to death with them.”
I chuckle, forgetting it’s a huge pain in the ass, and flinch. My head strains back as I start to sweat again, and Savannah brings the cold rag up to my forehead, running it down my cheeks and neck. She’s closer than before—only an arm’s length away—and I study her face.
She has these cute little heart-shaped lips and a delicate nose with a smattering of barely-there freckles across the bridge. I have the sudden urge to kiss every single one.
As the washcloth passes over my forehead again, I catch her eyes. “I could get used to you taking care of me.”
That barely-there pinkness is back to her cheeks as she sets the rag aside. “Do you always say what’s on your mind, or did the filter from your brain to your mouth get broken last night?”





Declan grins at me. “Depends on who I’m talking to. With you, it seems to be always.”
I bite my lip, trying not to get sucked in to the tangled web of this smooth-talker.
Screeching guitars, fast-paced drums, and unintelligible screams sound from my pocket, making me jump. I totally forgot I still have Declan’s phone. I tug it out, briefly seeing the caller is someone named Marcus, and hand it over to Declan.
“Shit.” He frowns at the cracked screen and slides his thumb across the bottom of the busted glass. Holding it up to his ear, he says, “Hey, man.”
I thought I’d give him some privacy by taking a shower, but when I move to climb off the bed, Declan wraps his hand around my wrist. Glancing back at him, he holds his finger up to indicate he’ll just be a sec as I hear the muted voice of the guy on the other end.
“Listen, there’s been a change of plans. Come up to the apartment when you get here and I’ll explain.”
After a few seconds, he hangs up and tosses his phone on the bed. “That was my trainer. He’s gonna be pissed.” He throws the covers off, wincing as he tries to swing his legs over the edge.