She raced to the bathroom, retrieving the first aid kit she’d seen under the sink earlier. When she returned, Nikhail was paler. He noticed her frown and joked, “Seriously, River. It’s fine. You should see the other guy.”
His teasing words didn’t cover his wince when he shifted in his seat, though.
River placed the kit on the table.
“Take this off,” she said, tugging on the hem of Nikhail’s shirt. It was barely hanging on to his frame. “The weapons, too. I need to see where the worst of your injuries are located.”
Despite Nikhail’s earlier comments, he didn’t utter a single protest as he complied. That, more than anything else, confirmed that the extent of his injuries was far worse than what he was letting on.
The knowledge that River hadn’t been in the operating room since before her father’s passing, coupled with the fact thatNikhail would be better served at a hospital, poked at the edges of River’s mind. She forced those thoughts away. They wouldn’t do any good right now.
Yes, Nikhail needed medical care. Yes, he’d probably be better off in a hospital. But he hadn’t gone to one. He’d come here, and he wanted her help.
That meant a lot to River.
Nikhail piled his weapons on the table as requested, his shaky movements at odds with the graceful fae she knew him to be. There was an irony in the way he placed his guns next to the first aid kit, but she would have to think about that later.
When her air fae wasn’t suffering.
River ran back to the bathroom, grabbed a black washcloth, and wet it, racing back to Nikhail’s side. His hands were flat on his thighs, and he shuddered with each inhale. Even though he wasn’t making any sounds, she could tell he was in pain.
River pulled on a pair of latex gloves and perched on the edge of a chair, getting to work cleaning his skin as quickly as possible.
As River wiped away the blood and dirt, she had the dark thought that, like Nikhail’s clothes, the safe house’s black aesthetic was less of a décor choice and more of a deliberate decision for moments such as this.
The worst wound on Nikhail’s chest was over eight inches long, and it was red, and angry. She pressed her gloved fingers against the edges of the wound, and blood seeped out.
“This is going to need stitches, Nik.” Her lips tilted down as she studied him. “Your fae healing should take care of it, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
He jerked his chin. “Do what you need to do. I trust you.”
Embers of warmth kindled in River’s stomach, and they remained there as she retrieved several items from the first aidkit. She lined them up on the table, then realized something was missing.
“One second.”
She hurried into the kitchen, getting the bottle she’d spotted earlier. Thank the gods she’d taken the time to explore when Nikhail was gone.
River added the bottle to her pile before picking up the smallest vial. The clear liquid inside sloshed.
“I’m sorry, Nik,” she said, removing the cap. “This will sting, but it’s important. The last thing we want is for your wound to get infected.”
Nikhail closed his eyes without even reading the label. “It’s fine. Do whatever you need to do. I can take it.”
That, she believed. But even the knowledge that Nikhail was used to medical attention didn’t stop River’s vision from blurring as she poured the liquid onto a clean washcloth. Nikhail inhaled sharply when she dabbed at the cut, and the sound might as well have been a scream.
River hated that she was causing Nikhail more pain and that he was sitting here needing medical attention.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” River continued mumbling apologies as she poured a generous serving of the amber liquor into a glass, handing it to Nikhail. “I don’t have anything else to help ease the pain, but hopefully this does something.”
Nikhail took the glass, his fingers brushing hers. “Thank you.”
He downed the contents in one go before setting the empty glass on the table.
“Ready?” she asked.
The air fae jerked his chin.
“Okay.” She drew in a deep breath. Steadied herself. Exhaled. “Let me know if you need me to stop.”