Chapter 29

                                    

                                          
I curse my husband, trying my best to damper the urge to kick him in the head as he sits in front of me, letting blood flow from his wrist and into the gaping hole in my leg.
"Why does it hurt so much this time?" My eyes squeeze shut, fingers squeezing the sharp edges of the rock he set me on that's just tall enough to let my legs dangle down.
"Because your body isn't shutting down." When he determines enough has trickled into the wound, he pulls his arm into his lap and stares up at me with wild, unintelligible eyes. "Which it should be, running headfirst at a bear."
I ignore the comment, trying my best to pretend my leg doesn't feel like someone's decided to take a hacksaw to the bone. "Your saliva hurts way less than this."
He's silent, the only sign the comment has disturbed him is a tiny wrinkle creasing his forehead.
A horrified groan trembles through me and I wish I could suck the words back up and forget about them forever. It's a sensitive subject for Griffin, and the tiny show of weakness that's snuck past his stoic mask doesn't escape me.
"I'm sorry." I scrub a flustered hand through my hair, wincing at the tangles that get caught in my fingers. Of course, he doesn't remember. "It's easy to forget when I went so long without knowing."
He's silent for a long moment, his gaze darting down to my mending skin. "That's the only memory I have pieces of," he admits slowly like the words are hard to force out of his mouth. "When I woke in my bed a little later, I thought I had dreamed it all, but when I came to check on you..,"
"You covered it up." I've been waiting to bring it up, but it hasn't felt like the right time until now. "When I woke up, I felt like I was crazy. You put new bandages on my back. Made the bed."
"I would have given you another robe if I had one," he sighs. "Unfortunately, that was the only of its kind in your closet."
My eyelids shutter closed, the ice that fills my chest a welcome distraction from the heat consuming the mending tendons. "You tricked me."
The last thing I expect is for him to scrub a hand down his face and stare up at me remorsefully. "Yeah," he admits begrudgingly. "I did."
A deep breath fills my lungs before slowly filtering out. I repeat the action. In, out. In, out. It doesn't do much to keep the cold bite of petulance from spreading, but it does work to keep the flurry of savage words from bursting from my tongue.
My cheeks heat at the thought of him seeing my body lying on the bed, naked and vulnerable. Did he touch me when putting new bandages on my back? Sneak a peek while adjusting the blankets to make the bed on the other side? I was out cold. There's no way I would have woken up if he decided to take advantage of me.
As if he can read my mind, he quickly shakes his head. "I didn't touch you."
I bite my cheek to keep from snapping accusations at him.
"I'm serious. I would never, Charlotte. Never." His hands cradle my knees, mindful of the throbbing wound a few inches from his palms as he leans forward so I can see the candor in his forest eyes. "Not while I'm me. Not while I can contain it."
I hate that I believe him. Despise the way the anger is so quick to settle in my chest when I want it to fester and burst so I can show him how unforgivable it was to lie to me. 
"Tell me what you're thinking," he murmurs pleadingly. "Please."
"I think that your face is in the perfect position for me to put my boot." I lean back, staring down at him through slitted eyes. "Might want to back up if you don't want me to investigate."