She would never know how they made it, but somehow, Lydia got Del back to the cabin without either of them collapsing. He stumbled as they crossed the threshold, catching himself on the doorjamb, and she glanced in dismay at the bloody streak his hand left on the wood. That was her first priority. Stop the bleeding. Then get him warmed up. Finding out what the hell happened was so low on the list that it didn’t even register.
Del sat on the edge of the bed, swaying but conscious, as she worked to strip his shirt from his body. His eyes followed her every movement, the irises still swallowed by ebony, and when she reached to undo the buttons, he did nothing to stop her. He only flinched when the cotton scraped over his left shoulder and arm, but not even that was enough to draw another wor
