Chapter 12: Twelve

Jasmine's POV—

"Sorry, did I scare you, baby girl?" he asks, casually hiding his gun in his pocket like I’m supposed to forget that it was there just a moment ago.

I don’t even realize I’m stepping back from him until he takes a step forward himself. There is a dark look in his serpent-green eyes. Something is definitely wrong with him this time.

"Don't come near me!" I shriek before I can stop myself.

He’s covered in blood, and he had a gun in his hand a second ago. I don’t even want to know whose blood it is.

He should be behind bars. Everything about him is literally screaming *dangerous.*

"You know," Nico starts saying something as he continues to walk toward me.

He stops midway and winces in pain.

"Fuck," Nico curses and staggers back, holding his left arm. He leans against the counter for support.

I momentarily forget about the warning signals in my head and that I’m supposed to stay far away from him, and I instantly run to his side.

"What happened to you?" I ask, gently pulling his hand away.

I’m closer to him than I would have liked, and I can literally scent his sandalwood and fruity aroma, but this time it’s mixed with blood.

"You're bleeding," I gasp.

I take his hand away from his arm and stare at the deep gash visible through his white long sleeve. The area is soaked red. He’s bleeding—why the fuck is he bleeding?

Unsure of what to do, I quickly take off my jacket and wrap it around his arm, trying to stop the blood.

My eyes meet his. He gives me a light smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watches me fuss over his wound.

"Well, it appears so, darling."

I stare at him in disbelief. He doesn’t even look the least bit concerned about his wounded arm, but instead, his eyes are fixed on me.

I curse myself for wearing a sleeveless shirt under the jacket that exposes half of my cleavage. Under his intense gaze, I can’t help but feel self-conscious.

The manager’s words echo in my head. I shake the thoughts away forcefully and instead focus on the task at hand.

"We have to get you to the infirmary," I stress.

Nico blinks and tears his eyes away from me for a moment to look down at his injury.

My jacket is now wrapped around it. I’m not sure if it’s doing anything, but at least the bleeding has stopped. I don’t have a degree in first aid. I can only get him to the infirmary before anything else happens.

"I’m fine, really," Nico grunts and carefully stands straight.

"You should have seen the other guy," he adds.

I narrow my eyes at that.

Did he go picking a fight with someone? Why do I even care?

He said he was fine.

As a sensible person who doesn’t want to be caught up in his fucked-up world, the right thing to do would be to leave him to his fate and go home. After all, my shift is over, and there’s no reason for me to remain here.

"You’re not fine," I hear myself say instead.

What the hell? *Go home, Jasmine,* my brain yells at me.

"Go to the infirmary," I tug at his sleeve and try to pull him along.

He chuckles, and I’ll be damned—I find myself loving the sound.

*He’s just injured. I feel sympathy for him,* I try to convince myself, but my heart is already racing faster than usual.

"Look at me, baby," Nico easily tilts my chin up, and I find myself staring into his green eyes.

"Honestly, if I knew you were going to care this much, then I would’ve gone ahead and paid a random guy to shoot me a long time ago," he grins and then laughs at his own joke.

I step back from him with a frown and fold my arms, not buying his humor.

"This is serious."

His smile falters for a moment. "You’re right. Just take me to my room, and I’ll attend to my injury myself."

I’m about to protest, but then I fall silent.

I realize there must be a reason he doesn’t want to go to the infirmary. Maybe I can manage to convince him to call a doctor later on.

"Okay, can you walk?" The words spill out before I can stop myself.

I turn away, my cheeks red with embarrassment. *Stupid,* of course he can walk—his legs just happen to be perfectly fine.

"Yes, baby girl," he hides a smile and follows me to the elevator.

We arrive at his room. I go over to the shelf and find the first aid box.

Taking it down, I turn around, and I’m about to walk over to the table, but I step back, finding him right behind me.

I feel the heat of his presence even before I turn around. That’s how close he is.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I can’t help but let out a small gasp when I finally face him.

He’s closer than is legal, his breath warm against my cheek, mingling with the scent of sandalwood, blood, and something undeniably masculine. My heart thunders in my chest as I find myself pinned between him and the shelf, with nowhere to go.

"You’re too close," I murmur, my voice coming out shakier than I intend.

The first aid box trembles in my hand and falls to the ground. He doesn’t even blink an eyelid.

Nico’s eyes darken, that predatory look returning, making my stomach flip in ways it shouldn’t.

"Am I?" he asks.

It’s a simple question, but his voice is a low rumble that vibrates through me.

He doesn’t move away. Instead, his uninjured hand reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my skin.

The gentle touch sends a jolt of electricity through my body. I shudder. I know I’m not supposed to feel like this, but my breath hitches, and I can’t stop my eyes from flicking down to his lips—lips that are curved in that infuriatingly sexy grin. My thoughts scatter, replaced by a single, overwhelming need to feel them against mine.

I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. I should be several miles away, shutting myself off from his cruel, dangerous world.

But before I can stop myself, I close the distance, crashing my lips onto his. The kiss is urgent, almost desperate. Nico groans into my mouth, his uninjured arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against his body.

He kisses me back. The kiss is possessive, claiming, and I melt into it, letting myself drown in the sensation of his lips, his tongue, the taste of him.

His hands are everywhere, sliding up my bare back, sending fire through my veins. I don’t know when or how we stumbled back, but suddenly, I’m lifted off the ground, and I find myself on the table, the first aid kit forgotten as Nico's weight presses me down, his mouth never leaving mine. His fingers brush against the hem of my shirt, tugging it up, and I gasp at the feel of his cold hands on my heated skin.

Nico pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze searing, filled with a hunger that makes my insides clench with desire.

Everything else screams wrong, but I’m here. I’m still here.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, baby girl," he warns, his rough voice turning me all the more fucking on.

He slides his hand higher up my waist, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I don’t care," I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation.

That’s all he needs to hear. He captures my lips again, his kiss fiercer this time, as if he’s trying to devour me whole. His hand moves higher, brushing over the curve of my breast, and I arch into his touch, craving more.

Every nerve in my body is on fire, every thought consumed by the feel of him, the taste of him.

"Nico…" I moan into his mouth, my hands gripping his shoulders, desperate to pull him even closer.

But just as quickly as the fire ignites, he pulls away, leaving me breathless and wanting. He’s panting, his eyes wild with something dangerous.

"First things first," he grunts and jerks his head toward the first aid box that is now on the ground in a corner of the room.

I nod instantly.

I hand him the first aid box, realizing just how wrong everything is. He has a fucking wife. How did I even forget about that?

I keep my head low, unable to meet his gaze.

I can feel his gaze lingering on me, but he doesn’t say anything. He just takes the box from me and places it on the table.

Even after that he doesn't say anything and simply starts tending to his wounds. Theres a heavy tension in the air and the silence is thick. I feel myself still longing for his touch, for him.