Tainted Night, Tainted Blood

26



Jonathan found me in the sitting room, blood still on my hands. I was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the bar. I had run but hadn’t gone far. Where was I to go? I couldn’t leave Thomas there alone.

“Are you okay?” he asked, entering the room. He closed the door and walked over to stand next to me.

“No.” I stared at the blood. It was already drying.

He stood there looking down at me. I refused to meet his gaze. What would I see there? Accusation? Pity? I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want anything from him or anyone else right then.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, offering me a hand.

I stared at it without moving. His hands looked clean, though I could see small cuts that were already healing. He hadn’t been hurt too badly during the fight, which was good. I don’t think I could stand looking at someone else bleeding because of me.

“She was right,” I said. I clasped my hands together. They felt sticky. “I’m nothing more than a monster.”

“No, you’re not.”

I laughed. “Really? I just ripped a woman’s throat out because she pissed me off. What kind of normal person does that?”

Jonathan lowered his hand. “Some things you can’t control,” he said. “You can’t help what you are. But that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Doesn’t it?” I looked at him bitterly. “I kill people. Most deserve it, but there are those who don’t. I make mistakes. I cause pain wherever I go.”

I expected him to try to soothe me, to try to tell me some bullshit about how everyone makes mistakes. I wasn’t stupid. I knew everyone made mistakes, but my mistakes caused people to lose their lives more often than not.

Jonathan reached out again, this time more insistent. “You’re getting blood on my floor.”

I blinked at him and then laughed. I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of the statement was just too much.

He smiled as I reached out and took his hand. I let go as soon as I was on my feet. He led me across the room, through the hidden door, into the bedroom, and into the adjoining bathroom. He was already washing his hands by the time I stepped through the door.

I looked around while he scrubbed, trying to keep my mind off what I had done. The bathroom was pretty subdued compared with the bedroom. The walls were light blue, and the tub and sink looked like they could have come out of any other house or hotel. I had expected something else, something more glamorous.

Jonathan finished scrubbing his hands. He wiped them dry on a towel hanging from a hook beside the mirror over the sink. He left the water on for me.

“Thanks,” I said, stepping in beside him. For some reason, the modest bathroom made me feel better. Maybe it was because it felt normal compared with everything else I was living. Maybe I was just getting over it. I’d killed before. What made this time any different?

“No problem,” he said, stepping back to give me room.

I picked up the bar of soap and began scrubbing at my hands. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and had to hide a grimace. I had blood on my face, caked in my hair. I was a mess.

“Here,” Jonathan said as I kept scrubbing. “I want to check your stitches.” He reached for my coat.

I tensed but let him take off the shortened coat. Now that he had mentioned it, my entire body started hurting again. With every movement of my arm, I could feel my shoulder holster rubbing against the bandage on my back.

I caught Jonathan’s wince in the mirror. “That bad?” I asked. Now that the coat was off, I could scrub farther up my arms. Some blood had run up the sleeves, nearly all the way to my armpits.

“Come into the bedroom as soon as you are done,” he said. “I’m going to clean that out.”

I frowned at him, but he had already turned away. How bad could it really be?

I finished washing my hands and dried them on the same towel Jonathan had used. There was a faint scent of lilac on the towel and I wondered who did his laundry. I just didn’t see him or Nathan using detergent that smelled so flowery.

Once my hands were dry, I returned to the mirror. I didn’t check my back. I didn’t want to see. Instead, I lifted my chin to check the stitches there. The wound was already healed closed, though it was still pretty red and angry looking. Another day or so and all I would have is a scar. It wouldn’t be the first.

I took a deep breath, wincing as it tugged at my back. I didn’t want to leave the room. I felt safe here, protected. Once I left the bathroom, I would be exposed again. It frightened me to no end.

I turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom. I knew I was just stalling. I had so much I needed to take care of, I couldn’t stand around feeling sorry for myself. We had Thomas now. If I could just figure out how to cure him, all of this would be worth it.

I froze just inside the doorway, staring at Jonathan. He had his white shirt unbuttoned. As I watched, he slipped it from his shoulders and tossed it on the bed.

His back was covered in scars, but somehow, it added something to him, made him seem stronger, more real. His muscles rippled beneath his skin and I blushed. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. His arms were firm, powerful. I could almost imagine them holding me down ...

“What are you doing?” I asked. I sounded pained, like I was on the verge of crying. I had to swallow hard to keep from choking.

He looked from me to the shirt, and I think he actually blushed. “I don’t want to get blood on it,” he said. “I’ve ruined enough clothing for one night.”

I licked my lips and then realized how that must have looked. I turned away in an attempt to hide my face. I felt like an idiot.

“Sit on the bed,” he said. “I’ll get some supplies from the bathroom.” He walked around me, going wider than he really needed to. I watched him disappear through the door. I couldn’t help looking. He looked so damn good.

I looked away as soon as he was gone. I didn’t need to be thinking about him like that, especially now. There was too much to do, too much shit I had to deal with without adding to it. I’d never even looked at someone that way before. Why was it happening now?

I slipped off my shoulder holster as I made my way to the bed, doing my best to focus on what was important. It didn’t come away easily, sticking to the shirt. I couldn’t quite feel it, but I was pretty sure I had bled through the bandage.

I sat on the bed and looked down at myself. The front of my shirt, as well as my jeans, was soaked in blood. It looked as though I had taken a bath in it. I hadn’t even realized how much the woman had bled on me until then.

Jonathan returned from the bathroom a few moments later. I averted my eyes as he entered, not wanting a repeat of before. He had an armload of supplies, bandages and tubes of ointment, in his hands. I peeked up and noticed he still hadn’t put on a shirt. His chest was bare, hairless, which struck me as odd on a werewolf. I would have thought he would be covered with it.

He sat down behind me, dumping his load onto the bed beside him. “I can’t work on this with your shirt on,” he said.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “No way. You can deal with it like this.”

“Your shirt is soaked back here.” Jonathan looked worried. “I have a shirt you can wear home. It will be big on you, but it won’t stick to you once I get this cleaned up.”

I shook my head. “You aren’t getting me out of my clothes.”

He gave me a frank look. “I can’t get to the gouges unless you take it off. I’m not trying to get you naked here.” He said the last with such seriousness, it made me blush. What was I worried about? He was just trying to be helpful.

I sighed and started working my shirt up my body. It was wet with blood, so it didn’t come off easily. And that’s not to mention how much it f*cking hurt. I groaned as the shirt peeled upward. The bandage came with it, slowly tearing from my skin.

As soon as it was off, I dropped the bloody rag to the floor. The air felt cold against my skin and I covered myself with my arms. I leaned forward, eyes closed. I was nearly shivering.

“This will probably sting.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a bitingly cold liquid poured over my wound. I hissed in a breath and tensed, but I stayed where I was. I could feel the bubbles pouring from the gouge.

My throat constricted. Infections rarely set in with vampires or werewolves. Our bodies were just too damn resilient. So what did it mean that my back was bubbling like that? Had I made things worse?

Jonathan poured more of the liquid onto my back and I couldn’t stop the grunt of pain. I licked my lips and did my best to ignore the flaring agony in my back. At least it took my mind off his body.

“What am I going to do?” I said. I needed to talk so I didn’t scream.

“About?” Jonathan started dabbing at the wound with a moist cloth. It felt like he was using sandpaper dipped in salt.

“About Thomas,” I said, nearly hissing the words. Good God, it hurt. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t take him home with me, but I can’t leave him here either.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“But what about Adrian? Sooner or later he’ll realize something is up.”

“I’ll deal with Adrian.”

I started to say something more, but just then, Jonathan started poking his finger into the wound. “F*ck!” I yelled, jerking away from him. “What the f*ck is wrong with you?”

“There’s something in there,” he said. “I need to get it out. I’m sorry.”

I swallowed and closed my eyes. I couldn’t even remember what we had been talking about.

Jonathan resumed poking into the wound. I could tell he was trying to be careful, but it was like he was stabbing me in the back with a scorching-hot poker. Couldn’t he have found something smaller than his fingers to get whatever it was out?

I hated every moment that I sat there. It wasn’t so much the pain, though that contributed to it. It was the fact I was letting a werewolf tend to my wounds. It was demeaning.

I should have just left as soon as we had Thomas locked up. I could have gone home, taken a bath, and let my body do all the healing on its own.

“Most of your stitching is busted,” Jonathan said. “I can’t fix it myself, but I think I can use some butterfly bandages to keep it closed until you can get back to Lei.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ll heal. Just get this over with.”

“But you don’t want the scars to be too bad, do you?”

I shrugged one shoulder, the good shoulder. “No one is going to see them but me.”

We fell silent and I drifted back to my own thoughts. I couldn’t stop wondering if Thomas was going to be okay, if what we had done was the right thing. Would my intervention set back his recovery? If we had left him be, would he have eventually regained his sanity?

There was no sense in worrying about it now. He was downstairs and I would have to deal with the consequences, whatever they might be. At least he was off the streets. Adrian couldn’t get to him now.

Jonathan finished dabbing at my wounds and started bandaging them up. I hated the feel of the tape on my back. It pulled my skin with every movement, making me feel restricted. As soon as I was home, they were coming off. Screw the scars. What were a few more anyway?

“Done,” he said after a few more minutes. “Let’s get you a shirt.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor while he went to the closet. What was I going to do now? I was afraid to go home, afraid to face Ethan. Even though we had survived our encounter with Thomas, I still felt as though I had failed. It was dumb, I know, but I couldn’t help it. Nothing was working out like I wanted it to.

What I needed was to get away. I could feel the pull of Delai. I wanted the comforts the small town offered. There, I could forget about my troubles, even if it was only for a little bit. Adrian wouldn’t bother me there; Thomas wouldn’t be there, half-crazed and ruined. I could just relax and let the world pass me by.

Fresh anger flared from my gut. Why in the hell was I thinking about that damn little town now? It seemed like every time things got tough, I was looking to run away these days. I couldn’t do that, it wasn’t me.

“What’s wrong?” Jonathan asked. He was standing in front of me, shirt in hand. I hadn’t even noticed him. He stared at me for a long second before sitting down beside me.

“I’m fine.” It didn’t sound convincing, even to me.

“Hey,” he said. He reached out and gently lifted my chin so I was looking into his eyes. I jerked away from his touch but kept my gaze on his. “We’ll figure this out.” He wiped a finger under my eye and I was surprised to see a tear glimmering there.

I wanted to harden, to close up and tell him to leave me the f*ck alone, but right then, I didn’t have it in me. I just wanted to sit there and cry like a little baby. All the fight had gone out of me. It had been a long time since I’d been this screwed up.

At least I managed to turn off the tears. I wouldn’t let him see me cry in earnest.

“I won’t let Adrian hurt him,” Jonathan said. “I’ll keep Thomas here as long as you want me to. I’ll protect him, keep him safe. We’ll figure out how to help him. Maybe Lei will know what to do.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Why was he being so damn nice to me? We weren’t supposed to be getting along like this. I was supposed to hate him, to want to kill him. He was a werewolf.

How many times did I have to keep thinking that before I realized it just wasn’t going to happen? Something about Jonathan comforted me. I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but around him, I could relax more than I could in nearly anyone else’s presence.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Everything was just getting to me.”

“You’re human after all.”

I looked up and he was smiling.

“Figuratively speaking.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

Our eyes locked and the entire world seemed to slip away. I could almost see through his glamour, see to the marred features of his face. I had done that to him, yet here he was, trying to make the murderer who had nearly cost him his life feel better. How could he have ever forgiven me?

He edged closer. I tensed, not knowing what to do. The shirt he had brought for me was balled up in his hands, and it reminded me I was sitting here topless. I hadn’t put on a bra when I had gotten dressed since it would have rubbed against my wounds.

I let my arms fall away. I didn’t care how much he saw. In fact, I almost welcomed it. My life had been filled with so much pain, so much death, it felt good to finally have something else, something deeper.

My lower lip trembled. I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or something else. I was terrified, unsure what was going on. I didn’t understand what was happening, and yet, deep down, something in me wanted it more than anything I had ever wanted in my life.

We were inches apart. I could feel his breath on my face and my own breathing quickened. I was shaking all over.

I started to reach out, to touch him. I caught myself at the last moment, my hand trembling as I held it inches from his bare chest. What was I doing? Thomas was downstairs, trapped. I couldn’t be giving in like this.

The bedroom door suddenly opened, and both Jonathan and I jerked back. Nathan walked in, wearing a pair of Lei’s sweats.

“Jeremy is—” He froze, foot hovering an inch off the floor. His face went hard, hateful.

Jonathan handed me the shirt and quickly stood. He snatched up his white shirt and began to button it on. “Is he going to be okay?”

I yanked the shirt over my head. It was too big, but right then, it felt just right.

“He’s still with Lei,” Nathan said. His eyes flickered toward me and I saw pure hatred there before he turned back to his Denmaster. “She says he will live, but he might lose his arm. She won’t know for sure until she sees how he heals.”

I stood. The shirt went all the way down to my knees. Part of me wished it covered me from head to foot. I felt like a fool. I wasn’t some girl who gave in to her emotions like that. I never should have let things get that far. I was somewhat thankful Nathan had arrived when he did. If he hadn’t, I wasn’t so sure how far things would have gone.

“Let’s talk out there,” Jonathan said, motioning toward the door to the sitting room.

Nathan huffed and turned away. Jonathan followed after him. He stopped at the doorway and looked back at me. There was a tenderness to his eyes that made me want to hit him. I didn’t need this. Not now.

He left the room and I took a moment to compose myself before following after. We had work to do.