Chapter 61 TELL ME.
\~~~LUCIANO MORETTI.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “This is deep.”
I looked at her instead of the wound.
Raina knelt slowly and closely in front of me, her brows drawn together in worry, and her lips slightly parted as she stared at the gash on my side as if it had personally offended her. Her fingers trembled just a little as she adjusted the towel she had pressed there earlier. I had seen fear on many faces before. Men, women, and enemies, but this was different. This wasn’t fear for herself. This was… concern.
“It is nothing,” I said calmly. “I’ve had worse.”
She shot me a glare so sharp it could have cut skin. “And that is supposed to be comforting?”
I almost smiled.
She dipped a piece of cotton into the antiseptic, squeezing out the excess with care before bringing it to my skin. The moment it touched the wound, a sharp sting shot through me. I inhaled through my teeth before I could stop myself.
I barely made a sound, but her eyes narrowed immediately.
“Good,” she muttered. “Nice to know you do feel pain too.”
“I am fine.”
“Keep saying that and I’d slap you.”
I huffed a quiet breath and leaned back against the edge of the bed, watching her work. She cleaned slowly, and methodically. She dabbed, paused, and dabbed again like she was afraid of hurting me more than I already was. Her face remained wrinkled in concentration, her nose scrunched, and her lips pressed tight, as though the wound was on her own body instead of mine.
She replaced the bloodied cotton with clean gauze, pressed firmly, and then reached for the antiseptic again. Her movements were careful but confident. She cleaned the edges, wiped away the blood, then pressed a fresh pad down, securing it with practiced hands.
“Have you done this before?” I asked.
She didn’t look up. “Not really. I've seen many movies.”
“I can't believe I'm letting you use me as an experiment.”
She didn't answer.
“Why are you still up?” I asked quietly. “It’s unlike you.”
Her hands stilled for half a second.
“I was watching a movie,” she replied, too quickly.
I raised a brow. “You?”
“What do you mean by me?” she snapped, then immediately softened her tone. “I am a huge lover of movies.”
That was a lie.
Not a dangerous one. Just… unnecessary.
I studied her face carefully. “Did you have anything you wanted to tell me?”
Her breath hitched. I felt it where she knelt close, her body angled toward mine.
She leaned lower, suddenly very interested in the wound again, as if she planned to crawl into my skin. “What would I possibly want to tell you?”
Instead of answering, she reached for the bandage roll and began wrapping it around my waist, her fingers brushing my skin each time she circled me slowly and carefully.
“You should be glad I am good at this,” she said, changing the subject. “You might not have survived the night.”
I chuckled softly. “Why do I feel like you want to see me die so bad?”
“Well,” she grunted as her arms wrapped fully around my waist, pulling the bandage snug. I stiffened despite myself. She was pressed against me now, her chest against my side, her warmth impossible to ignore.
She pulled back slightly. “I have no reason to want you alive, to be honest.”
“Yet here you are,” I said quietly. “Taking care of my wound.”
She lifted her head then, lips twitching upward just a little. “I am too young to be a widow. I’m still in my mid-twenties.”
That did make a small smile ghost my lips.
She stepped back and began returning the tools to the first aid box. “You still need a doctor,” she added. “That wound is deep. You need proper stitches.”
“I will survive.”
“You always think you’re untouchable,” she muttered. “Like some demigod.”
“Well,” I said lightly, “I am.”
She hissed and turned away.
My hand moved before my mind caught up.
I grabbed her wrist.
She gasped softly as I pulled her toward me, her balance shifting until she fell against my chest. The sudden movement sent a sharp pulse of pain through my side and I groaned despite myself, my back hitting the mattress.
“Uhm…” I sucked in a breath.
“You are being reckless!” she snapped, trying to push herself up.
My arms wrapped around her waist, holding her there. Not roughly., just firmly enough that she couldn’t move.
“You are injured,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t get it infected.”
“Are you worried about me?”
“God damn me if I am,” she shot back.
I shook my head, my gaze dropping to her face. She was close now. Too close. Her scent filled my lungs. Her clean soap, and something faintly floral. Her hair had fallen forward, framing her face, a few strands brushing my jaw.
“You are terrible with words,” I murmured. “Nothing like the woman you are supposed to be.”
“You are mistaken if you think I have any intention of pleasing you.”
“Yet you are here,” I said softly. “And you saved my life.”
Her body stiffened at that.
“If you have anything you want to tell me,” I continued, lowering my voice, “Now is the time. Whatever it is, I’d listen. If it’s a lie, I’d forgive you. If it’s a request, I’ll grant it.”
Her breath turned uneven. I felt it against my chest.
“W… why the sudden kindness?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“You just saved my life,” I said honestly. “I can do that much.”
“Oh.”
Her gaze dropped, and she took her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it gently. My grip loosened without me realizing it.
Just say it.
Tell me everything.
For once, I would set aside my rules, my instincts, and my suspicions.
She swallowed, her eyes still downcast.
The room was quiet except for our breathing.
And in that silence, I waited.