The Prince Of Curses h.s.

Twenty nine

My arm was slung around Harry's shoulders as he helped me walk back to the cabin.

I was limping slightly, every other step I took I felt a sharp pain in my shin. I hissed as Harry assisted me up the stairs. The cabin gladly welcomed us this time, the door swinging open on its own as we approached it. 

Harry lead me to the small kitchenette, grabbing me by my hips and hoisting me unto the counter. He turned quickly, walking through the front door and leaving me by myself. I pressed my lips together, rolling up my pant leg as high as I could. 

Whatever that thing was— that demon, it got me good. 

I flinched as I poked at my shin, examining the fresh blood covering it. Four medium-sized holes alined my skin. I doubt this would affect me too much, but I'd just have to make sure it didn't get infected. 

I lifted my head as a flash of light caught my eye through the window. Harry was swiftly running back to the cabin, coming from the woods with a bucket of water grasped at his fists. It wasn't soon before he came back through the door, heading right into the kitchenette. He placed the bucket of water on the counter beside me and looked around the small place. He tugged open a drawer, shutting it afterward and opening another.

"What are you doing?" I asked, watching him look around.

"I'm looking for a rag so I can clean your wound," Harry responded, stopping his movement as his hand darted around the inside of a drawer.

"Here, I can do it," I said as Harry pulled out a small cloth. Harry shook his head, ignoring my extended hand. 

"This is my fault," he said, dipping the cloth into the bucket. He lifted it, squeezing the excess water from the fabric, "I'll clean it for you."

I watched as he grabbed my leg, lifting it up slightly so he could rub the wet rag over it. I pressed my lips in a fine line as I looked at him. I was slightly angered with him, the way he had openly admitted that he only cared about me for one thing. It made my stomach curl at the thought that last night probably meant nothing to him. I wanted to create distance between us, wanted space to clear my head. 

"I'll do it," I said again, this time more flatly. I grabbed the damp cloth from Harry's hands but as I pulled away his fingers clutched the other end. 

I met my eyes with his as he looked over me. His face was expressionless. I tugged on the rag, droplets of water fell from it and hit the top of my knee. 

"You're upset," Harry soften. I looked away from him as he let go of the cloth. I began scrubbing the dried blood from my leg, then dipping the cloth into the bucket and ringing it out. I pressed the wet cloth over my wound, hoping that the pressure would help it scab over. 

I didn't look at him, I didn't want to. His words kept replaying in my head like a choir chanting them on repeat. "I can't let anything happen to you, I can't ruin the chances of finally having this curse lifted."

I gritted my teeth as I thought about it, subconsciously pressing the cloth harder into my leg. 

I guess that I had gotten so preoccupied by him that I forgot about his real motives. I somehow started believing that he cared for me as a person. I was so wrapped up and entangled with everything he did, his actions, the way he made me feel, that I forgot I'm only one thing to him.

A pawn for his game. 

Just as the witch spirits had told me. 

My eyes began to burn as I felt his hand graze over mine. I turned my head away, hiding between my shoulder and the hair that fanned my face. I didn't want him to see me like this— crying because I got my feelings hurt.