She lets out a short, sweet laugh that reaches straight to my core.
The moment is ruined as soon as I open the door.
“Mmm.” Fraser’s groaning is weaker than before.
It might have something to do with how I haven’t fed or changed him today.
“Your spare keys, I duplicated them,” she says as I lock up behind me and guide her farther inside, completely ignoring my test subject. “And, um…”
With her hand covering her wound, Lilith ambles toward the table. I’m right there alongside her, my hand on the small of her back. A territorial gesture. A protective one.
“Yes?” I prod.
“You’ll need to get someone here to fix this.” She points at one of the walls, then grabs the duct tape from the table. “I mean, I taped it from the other side, but better safe than sorry.”
“Taped what?” My eyes narrow as she drags me toward the wall.
“My peephole.”
It’s then that I see it. A tiny hole.
“You…” I can’t help it. The corners of my lips quirk. I run a hand over my face and let out a huff of a laugh. “You broke in there to spy on me?”
“I wasn’t lying.” A smile curls her lips up when she hands me the duct tape roll. “I’ve been stalking you.”
Despite how urgent it is that I suture her wound, I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck and lean in for a kiss. Our lips mate, and it’s intense. It’s right.
It’s home.
Too soon, and to the sounds of Fraser’smmms, I pull away, then tape the hole shut.
In a couple of days, when this fucker and his stench are gone, I’ll do as Lilith suggested and have someone patch it up.
With that settled, I’m going to take care of what’s truly important—tending to her wound. My hand is curled around her waist as we head to my cabinet.
There, I pull out a large towel and spread it out on the floor behind Fraser.
“You’re really not upset?” She runs a soothing hand through my hair after we’re both seated on the towel, a bottle of antiseptic, gauze pads, and a small suturing kit waiting to my right. “About anything?”
“I told you once, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” I brace her back and ease her down. “I’m fucking flattered.”
“Good.”
When she lifts her hand to reach for my cheek, I grab it and kiss her wrist.
I love kissing her, sure.
Right now, though, I need to check her pulse.
And it’s…within range.
Thank fucking fuck.
What’s left to worry about is suturing her cut.
Unlike the botched job I did on Fraser, I take my time with Lilith. I irrigate the wound thoroughly before I sterilize it, my hands steady as I guide the needle in slow, precise passes. Each stitch is spaced, clean, and even.
In a few days, when I remove them, there won’t be an ugly ridge left behind. I won’t allow it.