Beyond The Fangs

Chapter 30

JAEGER

I tried to convince myself that I only felt the way I was feeling because Izzy was the first person who'd stuck by my side in a long time, who I'd been this close to, and spent this much time with. That I was just temporarily infatuated by her, but that didn't work for long. I couldn't deny what I was feeling if I wanted to get over the feelings. I had to first accept them as they were, then get over them. 

I wasn't focused on how close I was to Izzy as I supported her, or the way her body fit against mine, because something else was drawing my attention. The scar on my palm. It kept getting harder to ignore. Sharp pricks of pain shot through my arm, getting more defined and stronger by the second. I noticed there was a red streak, running up my hand, no doubt coming from the scar. I couldn't react, despite the jarring pain, because Izzy would end up figuring out something was wrong. The most I could do to tend to it was to tie it up with a shirt, both to hide the wound and stop the bleeding as best I could.

After almost an hour, we arrived at a village called Rwanding, where I suggested we take a break and get a new supply of weapons since we'd lost all of ours.

"Okay," she agreed, "Let's go."

"No, I'll go get the weapons on my own," I told her, not wanting her to strain her ankle and also because I wanted to look for an aid kit and treat my hand as best I could, so I didn't want her to follow me.

"Fine, you go get the weapons, I'll go see if I can find some non-perishable foods."

I caught her hand, stopping her when she began walking away. Why was there so much skin contact between us today?

"No, I'll look for that too," I volunteered, releasing her hand, "just stay, don't strain your ankle." I placed my hands on her shoulders and made her sit. "Stay."

"I'm not a dog," I heard her mumble as I left to go look for food and weapons... and an aid kit.

I found all three in no time. I began untying the shirt from around my hand but the shirt was starting to redden before it was even completely off my hand. My hand had started to bleed again, I realised. I quickly tightened the shirt around my hand again. If I took too long to return Izzy would, without a doubt, end up finding me, so I decided to do it later in the night, hoping my blood would clot by then so I didn't bleed too much when I treated it.

I went back to where I'd left Izzy, not surprised to see she wasn't there anymore. It took her a couple of minutes to return, and when she did I noticed she was wearing a different shirt now. I tried to mask my disappointment.

"I told you to stay seated," I said.

"Here," she said, handing me my shirt, "I found a shirt my size in one of the other houses. Yours was pretty uncomfortable anyway so I wanted to change it." That was a lie, she'd seemed pretty comfortable in my shirt. "You can take your shirt back."

"You looked better in my shirt," I told her, aware of how awkward she felt when I said things like that.

Her brows rose slightly and she looked away from me. I smirked before putting on my shirt and handing her a can of beans.

"Aren't you going to remove my shirt from around your hands?" She asked, opening the tin.

"I'll remove it later."

"Why not now?"

"Because I don't want to"

"Why not?"

"Doesn't matter," I replied.

She narrowed her eyes at me, then looked back at my hand, no doubt noticing the red streak that had spread from my palm up my wrist.

"Is that what happens after a vampire heals?" She asked, clueless.

"Yes." I lied, "happens all the time, you just don't notice it."

"Because I don't stick around long enough to?"

"Exactly," I lied again and wondered if she could read through my lies like I could hers

Once we'd finished our tins, I took out the weapons I'd brought. There were a lot of them.

"Whoa," Izzy picked up one of the daggers, admiring it. "You're a beauty. A sharp, dangerous beauty, aren't you?"

"Are you expecting it to answer? What's with you and talking to things that won't talk back? First dogs, now daggers."

"When you say it like that it makes me sound weird."

"That's because you are weird," I said.

She snickered. "Careful what you say. I'm armed." She sheathed the dagger into her thigh holster and continued looking through the weapons.

There was a backsword holster that Izzy strapped on, sheathing two swords through it. I handed her another dagger which she slipped into her calf sheath. There was also a waist sheath that she strapped on, putting another dagger through it. I took a knife holster which I loaded with throwing knives.

"How come you get that one?" She questioned.

"Because I have better aim than you do," I stated bluntly.

"That's not true, I—"

Before she could finish her sentence I took one of the empty cans and threw it into the air then threw one of the throwing knives. It fell back down to us with the knife having punctured the tin. A grin spread across my lips as I looked at the tin and then back at her.

"Think you can do that?" I challenged.

She blinked. "Fine, I guess you can have it," she gave in. "Does this mean you trust me now since you're giving me all these weapons and all?"

"I guess."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You've been saying I don't know a lot," she said.

"And you've been asking why a lot," I retorted. 

"Just answer."

I sighed, "because you stayed with me when you could have left I guess, and you did save me twice after all." 

A wry smile formed on her lips and I had to force my gaze back to her eyes so she didn't notice the way my eyes lingered on her lips.

"It would do me no good if I told you I considered not saving you, would it?"

"No," I grinned. "But another reason is the fact that you wouldn't be able to kill me even if you tried."

"What?"

"I said that you, Izzy, wouldn't be able to kill me even if you tried."

"Is that a challenge?"

"No. It's a fact."

She scoffed, "I'm so tempted to prove you wrong, but I'm afraid I might actually kill you."

"I think you're just afraid you'll be embarrassed once you fail."

"Are you trying to get me to want to kill you?"

"Maybe," I said with a wicked grin.

"You really aren't sane then," she concluded. "But it wouldn't be a fair challenge. I've got a sprained ankle and you're not injured at all."

"I—" I paused, careful to think through my words, "I'm not, you're right." I stood, extending my good hand out to her, "Come on, we're going to have to rest in one of these houses then move again once your ankle is relatively better."

She looked at my hand for some time, debating on whether to accept or deny my help. She hesitated before placing her hand in mine. I wrapped my hand around hers, helping her up, and a jolt ran up my arm as I did so.