Mase popped up and blocked my way with a wall of muscle. "Hey, whoa. You're not going anywhere."
"Says who?" I asked without bothering to step out of his personal space.
"Says me," he said, curling his lip into an irritated scowl. He held my gaze for several faltering heartbeats before looking away. His voice, his nearness sizzled a fiery energy over my skin, a welcome distraction of the panicked aftershocks still trembling through my body.
He cleared his throat. "Clean yourself up. You've got blood sliding down your neck. You're going to ruin everyone's appetites."
I took the hand towel from my waistband and pressed it to my chin. Red dotted the white fabric, and that horrible scene in the snowy forest sprang into my mind again. I'd been bloody then, too. Both before and after the vendor chased me since little scabs still dotted my fingertips where I'd gripped Pop's nails.
"I'm bleeding," I whispered.
"I see that. What are you going to do about it?"