Page 18 of Tempted By Shadow

He peels the fabric away with a wince. The wound is long but not deep — a diagonal slash across his ribs, still seeping but slowing. The skin around it is already bruising.

“This needs real stitches,” I say.

“Later.”

“Shadow—”

“Later.” His eyes meet mine. “Patch me up enough to stop the bleeding. We’ve got bigger problems right now.”

I do my best. Clean the wound, apply pressure until the bleeding slows, tape gauze over it in layers. My hands shake the whole time. When I’m done, I sit back on my heels and look at him — pale, bleeding through the bandages already, but alive.

“I’m gonna have to call King now.”

“I know. But let me do it. Please.”

Neither of us moves.

“When he gets here,” Shadow says quietly, “he’s going to know. About us. There’s no hiding this.”

“I know.”

“He might—” Shadow stops. Swallows. “I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

“I don’t care.” I take his hand, thread my fingers through his. “You chose me. Whatever comes next, we face it together.”

He pulls me closer, presses his forehead to mine. We stay like that for a long moment, breathing each other’s air, stealing one last second of peace before the storm hits.

Then I pull back, find my phone, and call my brother.

It rings twice before he picks up.

“Naomi?” King’s voice is alert, like he hadn’t even been sleeping. “It’s three in the morning. What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come to my apartment. Now.”

A pause. I hear rustling, movement. “What happened?”

“Three men broke in. They’re — they’re tied up in my living room. Something about Tyler owing money. I don’t — King, just come. Please.”

“I’m on my way.”

He hangs up. I lower the phone and look at Shadow, who’s watching me with that quiet, resigned expression I’m starting to hate.

“He’s coming,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

He doesn’t answer. We both know I might be lying.

I help him to his feet and we walk back out to the living room, where three men are still zip-tied against the wall. The older one is fully awake now, watching us with cold eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Smart man.

Shadow lowers himself onto my couch, one hand pressed to his ribs. I sit next to him, close enough that our shoulders touch. Close enough that King will see, the second he walks through that door, exactly what we are to each other.

“You don’t have to sit with me,” Shadow says quietly. “You could — when he gets here, you could say I was just doing the job. Protecting you. Nothing else.”

“No.”