Page 61 of Vicious Secrets
Danny jumps on my instruction, clearly looking for an excuse to get out of here. I don’t recall him being close with his father, but he believes his mother hung the moon for him. If anything, he’s currently driven by vengeance for scaring Tiff, not killing Renzo.
“Regroup in the morning?” Vi cocks a brow and looks between Alic and me.
“Agreed.” I nod sharply.
My heart flutters and the rage plume finally starts to settle. Robyn will be ecstatic when she sees me. There I was yesterday morning, thinking I’d miss Christmas and feeling guilty for making a decision to jump into action. Now, I’ll be back by her side in under twenty-four hours.
Fuck, I want to rebury my face between her legs and forget the world.
The seatbelt digs into the shallow cuts on my chest, but the sting doesn’t distract me from my own excitement. I feel like a teenager who finally got a chance to sit next to his crush at school. The giddiness inside of me, the galloping of my heart, is a new sensation. And there’s a voice in the back of my head that’s telling me it’s wrong.
The walk through the penthouse to the bathroom is a blur of antsy tingles and woozy exhaustion.
I tear my clothing off, using the scissors in my med kit when I become too tired and frustrated to deal with the buttons. When I toss the fabric onto the white tile floor, blood splatters up the wall. One of these days, my house cleaner is going to—rightfully—strangle me.
“Jesus, Siro. What…”
I freeze and look up at the reflection of Robyn. She hovers in the doorway, lips parted and eyes wide. She wears a satin nightgown that leaves little to the imagination. My cock stirs, and I curse, close my eyes, and bend over to grip the edge of the countertop to steady my mind more so than my body.
“I’m fine,” I grunt out.
I curse myself for being such a pathetically simple man.
“Like hell you are!” She’s closer, but I can’t tell how close.
I open my eyes and instantly regret it. The skin drain morphs into a spinning kaleidoscope. I groan, closing my eyes as I grip the counter tighter. My palms slip on the glass basin, and the blackness behind my eyes wobbles with neon lights.
Wood hits the backs of my knees. A small hand rubs between my shoulder blades. I launch upright, twisting away from the touch like it burned me. There’s only one option for who is touching me, but shades of red replaces neon.
“Sit, Siro.” Robyn’s voice sounds underwater.
Robyn’s safe. Robyn’s safe. Robyn’s safe.
“Siro, let me take care of you.”
The tenderness of her voice punches through the redness clouding me. The concern in her voice flutters over my skin and sinks into my muscles. My eyes refuse to reopen. My hands go numb.
“Robyn?” I mumble. “I can’t... I can’t see.”
“Siro, sit. Just sit down.”
I lower myself down and find the chair with my ass. Or maybe my thighs. Hard to tell from the fiery pins and needles gouging every inch of my limbs. My descent has an eerie amount of coordination like someone else is inside my body controlling me.
Something cold and damp drapes over my shoulders. A dry towel rests on my lap.
My eyes finally open, and the redness dies off as my vision tunnels in on Robyn. She fusses with the box of supplies, pulling out everything needed to sew me up.
“Robyn, you don’t have to help,” I mumble through dry lips.
“You’ll bleed out before you finish your chest,” she huffs and snaps on a pair of gloves.
I grind my back teeth and stare at my wife. I don’t want her here right now, sewing me together. I don’t want her to feel responsible for me charging head-first into battle.
“Blood loss always leads to a good night’s sleep.”
She snorts. A gloved hand presses on my chest as a needle pierces my skin. I’m more aware of sutures than I think I’ve ever been. I don’t think Robyn’s lost her touch. Despite how many times I’ve sewn myself and others up, she’s the expert here.
“Did you take any pain meds tonight? Like something questionable my stepdad sold you?”
