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Excerpt from Fated: A Pyte/Sentinel Novel
Oh, my God, don’t look, she chanted over and over in her head as she stood there, holding her hand over the kitchen sink while she waited for the bleeding to stop and her hand to mend.
It was just a matter of time, she reminded herself, thankful that she was an Alpha instead of regular Pack since she was able to harness her strength and healing abilities to fix her hand so that she wouldn’t have to endure the sight of her blood or a trip to the hospital for-
She gagged, biting it back just in time as the thought of a needle and thread being pulled through her skin made her head spin and her stomach flip. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she slowly breathed in and out, pushing the images of needles going through her flesh away and tried to focus on pretty much anything else. She was a pathetic shifter. She knew and accepted this as a fact and right now she really just couldn’t give a damn as she felt the cold water pour over her hand while her skin knitted itself back together.
Just a few more minutes, she told herself, taking a deep breath and started to count to a hundred slowly in her head, telling herself that her hand would be healed, all the blood would be washed away and she could pretend that this never happened.
“Drew! Stop!” she heard Ryan yell just as the sound of the kitchen door exploding off its hinges interrupted her count and made her open her eyes in time to see Drew, in all his nine foot shifter glory standing there, growling as he searched the kitchen, looking for something that he clearly wanted to kill.
Frowning, Kara followed his gaze, careful to avoid looking at the bloody knife on the counter, her hand, the blood pouring out of it and just simply focused on what had Drew’s panties in a twist. When she couldn’t find a reason for his obvious mental breakdown, she looked back over at the door to find Ryan standing there and for the first time since she’d met the asshole, he looked shaken.
“Who did this to you?” the angry cold voice demanded, drawing her attention away from Ryan, who was still standing there looking terrified to the very large, naked man standing next to her, glaring down at her through silver eyes.
When she didn’t answer, mostly because she’d caught sight of the slash across her fingers and had to struggle not to pass out or worse, vomit, she was forced to close her eyes, take a deep breath and go to her happy place, which unfortunately for her, she didn’t have one.
“Who fucking did this?” Drew snarled, snatching her hand out of the cold water so that he could inspect her hand and make it nearly impossible to keep it together, because now she could feel the warm blood trickling down her hand and arm.
“Tell me who fucking did this!” he snapped, giving her the distraction that she desperately needed, but she absolutely refused to open her eyes, terrified that she would see another glimpse of bone if she did.
Unwilling to open her eyes or mouth, she shook her head, once, because that’s all her stomach could handle while the large bastard started prodding at her wound. She tried to pull her hand away, but the stubborn bastard wouldn’t release her.
“Kara,” he snarled, “tell me who fucking did this to you!”
Blindly reaching out with her good hand, she grabbed onto the edge of the kitchen island, needing the support as she opened her mouth, careful not to breathe in the scent of her own blood, and admitted, “No one.”
“Bullshit!” Drew snapped. “Tell me who fucking did this to you!”
If she thought that she could manage opening her eyes without passing out, she would have rolled her eyes. Instead, she settled on sighing heavily until she caught the scent of her own blood and her stomach turned in protest. Then she simply answered the man, hoping that it would be enough to make him stop talking and release her hand so that she could continue standing there, pretending that she wasn’t bleeding to death.
“It was an accident,” she managed to get out, surprisingly without gagging, which she took as a positive sign.
“An accident?” Drew snarled, not really sounding like he believed her, which was kind of insulting.
“The knife slipped,” she bit out, carefully pulling her hand free even as she kept her eyes tightly closed and blindly searched with her injured hand until she managed to place her hand back beneath the ice cold water.
There was a pregnant pause before Drew slowly repeated back, “The knife slipped?” in a tone that she didn’t really appreciate. So, she simply stood there, ignoring him as she returned to counting to a hundred in her head.
“The knife slipped?” he repeated, sounding a lot less angry and a great deal more curious.
“Yes!” she hissed, wondering why the big jerk was having such a hard time understanding this concept.
“I see,” he murmured thoughtfully as she reached sixty in her head.
She considered opening her eyes to see if her hand was healed, but she could still feel the tissue knitting together, which to be honest, was not a very pleasant experience.
“And it slipped while you were…,” he prompted, making it obvious that he wasn’t going to let this go until he knew the whole sordid story.
“I was making a sandwich!” she snapped, even though it should have been more than obvious since all the ingredients to make her sandwich were still on the kitchen island, probably covered in her blood, she realized, tightening her hand around the edge of the kitchen island as her stomach once again threatened to betray her.
“A sandwich?” he said dryly.
“Yes!” she snapped back, wondering what was so difficult to understand that she simply cut herself while trying to make a damn ham sandwich!
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