30
Nadine
Micah helped me sit down on the bench. “Let me see,” he said, reaching for my shoulder.
“It’s nothing.” I raised my arm to push his hand away, but flinched from the pain radiating from the wound when I moved. I had almost fainted after the battle was over. Almost. I had felt the strength seeping out of me, and hit my knees hard on the concrete ground, making it all hurt more.
As he knelt on the ground in front of me, Micah tsked. “Darling, you’re not a very good liar.”
I groaned and let him pull the ripped piece of my armor aside to look at the wound. I hissed, and cursed, and hissed some more.
“Here.” He offered me his left arm. “You can hold on, squeeze, dig your nails in. Do whatever, as long as you let me clean this up.”
I waved him off. “I can take it.”
He raised an
