He Staged My Funeral, Now His Wolf Howls at My Door novel · Chapter 19 of 32

Chapter 19: Throw-Back

"Your hands," I said.

Eamon looked down.

His palms were spread over my waist under the blanket, and his fingers had curled into the torn cloth.

He lifted them off at once.

"I didn't mean..."

"Three moons, no touch without my say." I sat up, and the blanket slid off my shoulder. "I believe that's the term. I wrote it down, in case you forgot."

"I didn't forget."

"Then you broke it before breakfast."

He sat up too, naked to the waist, with the blanket pooled in his lap.

His eyes went to my shoulder, and the color left his face.

The bite was deep. Four punctures, two at the front and two at the back of the shoulder, crusted black with dried blood.

"Hazel."

"It's fine."

"I did that."

"You did that to someone who walked in front of a door."

"I did that to you."

His voice shook so badly that I stopped.

For a moment he looked exactly as he had on the stage, kneeling by my body.

"Dress it," I said.

"What?"

"I can't reach the back of my shoulder. There's a kit on the shelf. You have my permission."

He went still.

Then he got up, found the kit, and knelt behind me on the cold concrete.

His hands were not steady, but they were careful.

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