Betrayal of the Black

forty-three

WAKING UP IN THEO'S ARMS WOULD have been much more pleasurable if it weren't for the throbbing in her thigh. Pain pulsed in her leg again, and she winced into Theo's chest.

She allowed herself only a moment longer to relish in the way he held her, and the sound of his heartbeat against her ear before she rolled away.

Not only was her thigh hurting, but she was covered in blood. As was he. It didn't smell nice, and with the dried blood flaking off onto the bed, it didn't look very nice either.

Moving slowly so that she neither woke Theo nor agitated her leg further, she reached the side of the bed. The second she stood up, she stumbled.

The pain grew more prominent now that she was standing up, and a hiss escaped her lips. She closed her eyes from a moment, taking deep breaths to relax herself.

The more appealing decision would to lie back down next to Theo and fall back asleep, but she could feel the blood on her skin, and in her hair and she hated it. It reminded her too much of what it had felt like when Theo had found her after her kidnapping.

Rounding the bed, she kept one hand on the footboard so that she wouldn't stumble again. The room was small, yet she felt like it was taking forever to traverse it.

"What are you doing?" mumbled a tired voice from the bed, and she jumped.

"I'm going to shower," she answered, trying not to flush as she remembered that she had woken in his arms only minutes before.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Theo looked at her through heavy eyelids. He was covered in blood much like her, which had long dried. They both equally looked, and smelled horrible.

Unfortunate, considering he hadn't looked half bad with blood dripping down him last night. His gaze raked along her body, lingering on the way her hand was clutching the footboard.

"Yeah, you should. You look horrid," he commented.

She rolled her eyes. "Wow, you sure know how to make a girl blush."

"You want me to make you blush?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes darted away from him, towards the bathroom door, furiously trying not to let her cheeks heat. How come a innocent question from him, in that morning voice of his, was enough to send her entire body alight when she had never even blushed for a man before?

She realised then that this whole being in love with him thing was going to be hell. She needed to get a grip.

"No, I want to shower," she replied.

He shifted, moving to properly lean back against the headboard. He studied her for a moment before his attention diverted to her thigh.

"How's your leg doing?" he asked.

"Fine," she lied as her thigh gave another painful throb.

"I love it when you lie to me," he murmured.

"Yeah?" she taunted. "I love standing around in dry werewolf blood."

Rolling his eyes, he told her, "Go shower. Do you want me reapply your bandage when your done?"

She looked down to her thigh, where the bandage hid underneath her bloodied clothes, as if expecting the answer to be written there for her. She deliberated his question before shaking her head.

"I can handle it myself," she said, "but thank you."

He hummed, clearly still tired but having no intention to fall back asleep. He continued to watch her through drowsy eyes as she floundered across the room to get to her bag.