Exodus (The Ravenhood #2)(41)

His eyes close as he pales.

“You’ve lost too much blood.”

He chews his lip with his teeth. “I’m good.”

“Sit down. Now.”

“I’m fine.”

“If you pass out and crack your head, I will leave you to die.”

“No, you won’t, that’s not who you are.” He grips my hand and glances at me, his smile faint.

“Sit the hell down.”

He does as I do my best to towel him off.

It takes every bit of strength I have not to press my lips to his skin as I do.

That’s affection, and maybe it’s his helplessness that has me wanting to do something so intimate.

I bat that notion away Louisville Slugger style. I’ve shown him enough kindness by tending to him.

I will not be the fool again.

He watches my every move as I pat the water from his body before ordering him to sit on the edge of my bed.

“You think fucking me was smart, considering?”

“I think fucking you was worth the added headache you’re giving me.”

I roll my eyes as he tries to pull me into his lap.

“Tobias, you’re seconds away from passing out. Stop, you’re white as a sheet.”

He shrugs. “Better than having one draped over me.”

“That’s debatable.”

I don’t miss his grin. “Maybe you don’t hate me so much anymore.”

“Not debatable.”

I collect his clothes from my floor and see the collar of his shirt is covered in blood, along with the back of his suit jacket.

“How long have you been freely bleeding? You’ve lost a lot.”

He nods toward his clothes. “Burn them.”

“I’m afraid my incinerator is on the fritz.” I bite my lips to stifle my laugh.

He rolls his eyes. “Bag them. I’ll take them with me.”

I lift the clothes in jest. “So, this is all covered in incriminating DNA, all I need to take you down, huh?”

Nothing about that amuses him.

“I’m joking.”

He’s not.

“You already have all you need to take me down.”

We stare off, his newest confession throwing me until he winces.

I cock my hip and palm it. “You need stitches. It’s still bleeding. Don’t you have some sort of dirty mob doctor on the payroll?”

A chuckle erupts from him. “You’ve seen entirely too many movies, but it’s not a bad idea. It’s not deep enough, and it will close tonight. I’ll settle for a nurse with a horrible bedside manner instead.”

“Fine,” I roll my eyes. “Stay there.” Dressing quickly, I go to the hall closet and pull out a trash bag and the first aid kit. I bring it back to the bedroom and spray his gash with antiseptic. I can’t help my giggle when he lets out a whimper as I press a bandage to his wound before ordering him to hold it.

“Big baby.”

“It fucking hurts,” he says, his posture wary as he holds the bandage to his head.

“I’ll get you something to put on.”

He grips my hand. “No.”

“This isn’t debatable, Tobias.”

Downstairs, I head to Roman’s bedroom and check his medicine cabinet, grabbing a couple of Vicodin. Searching his drawers, I find some unused boxers and a T-shirt before I stop in the kitchen. Back in my bedroom, I hand him the pain killers and juice. He swallows them down before studying the clothes in my hands—the clothes belonging to a man he despises.

“They’re clothes. You can’t walk around naked.”

“Says who?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The boxers are still in the package.”

He doesn’t say a word as he opens it and slips them on, along with the T-shirt. I extend the napkin holding the quick sandwich I made, a croissant and swiss.

“Here, eat this, a Frenchman’s delight.”

“Not hungry.”

“Eat, or you’ll pass out.”

He takes it from me and shoves half the croissant in his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re acting like a brat. Like Mom just forced you to get a buzz cut. Just say thank you. You won’t hate yourself as much.”

It’s faint, but I hear it when I switch off the bathroom light. “Merci.”

“So, is this some sort of scare tactic? Because I’m leaving soon.”

“No, this is a rough day.”

“Retaliation?”

He sips his juice, completely ignoring the question.

“You know, your brother did the same shit.” I roll my eyes. “I wonder where he got it from.”

I pull my comforter down and sort my pillows while he finishes his sandwich. He sits there as if he’s confused about how he got here. I am too. Instead of questioning it, I lay our used towel on the pillow next to mine and gesture for him to lay down.

Instead, he stands, crumbling up the napkin in his hand while walking into the bathroom. A second later, I hear running water.

“What are you doing?” I ask from the edge of the bed.

“Brushing my teeth.”

“Are you serious?”

I hear a mumble around the toothbrush, “Swiss cheese breath is the worst.”