25. | Needle and Thread

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My head hammers against my skull as I slowly wake from my slumber

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My head hammers against my skull as I slowly wake from my slumber. I groan, attempting to sit up, but I notice the heavy weight that pins my body. "Don't move."

I whine, using my arms to try and get him off – which fails. I try to roll out from under him, but he doesn't let me. More weight pins me to the bed as I feel something being dabbed against my head. I struggle to get him off, trying to push him and roll out.

But he doesn't let me. He drops his body on me, making me let out a huff. "If you don't quit, I will use this entire bottle of antiseptics to knock you back out."

"I can't get up if the entirety of your body weight is on me!" I hiss, finally opening my eyes but immediately regretting it from the harsh intensity of the light. Killian's body shifts before the light behind my eyes dims. I squint my eyes, noticing the light slightly dull.

It's definitely not as bright as it was.

"Now sit still, and let me clean your wound."

"It'll heal." I groan.

"Doesn't seem like it." He mumbles thoughtfully. He's zoned in on my wound, nursing it. It doesn't feel that bad, but it must be if he's still cleaning it.

I take the chance to study his features. Chiseled jawline, sharp enough to cut someone. Eyes the color of a deep oak brown. I'm close enough to see the teeny little green spots in his eyes. They're hard to notice. I'm surprised I even noticed them.

His cheekbones are high, perfect. Everything about him seems perfect. His muscled body. His god-like face. His heavenly eyes. His fluffy, messy black curly hair.

He may act like a douche, but even I can't deny he's attractive.

"I can hear and feel your heartbeat, Blade." He mutters, still not glancing at me.

"Your point?"

"It's pounding, for whatever reason." He reaches over to the nightstand, my head following, and I watch as he picks up a string and needle.

He brings it back toward me and I widen my eyes. "Absobloodylootely not." I grab his wrists and he gives me an exasperated look. "I do not need stitches." I glare.

"You took a violent blow to the head when you hit the wall. It's pretty deep." He explains.

"It was a risk I was willing to take. She needed to let go."

He nods. "I know that, but you still need stitches, Grace."

I frown slightly at the lack of my nickname. "No." My voice is firm.

He sighs. "You're getting stitches, and if I have to, I will drug you."

"No." I move to roll away, managing to sit up, but his arm wraps around my waist. "No!" I grunt. I use my body to push myself, knocking him off the bed. But since his arm is wrapped around me, he takes me with him.

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