Forty Six

Isabella

"Dante!" I shake him, crying, and roll him over. He opens his eyes, appearing disoriented. I collapse back to the mattress, relieved. He takes a drowsy look around and trails a hand across his torso, wiping away the blood.

"It's nothing, darling. The stitches must have broken," he says, sitting up with a smile. "I didn't feel a thing. But we have to get cleaned up. We look like we've murdered someone," he adds with amusement, running his clean hand through his hair.

"It's not funny," I snap, and go to the bathroom.

I didn't need to wait long for him to join me. This time I am the one who washed him, gently stripping off the bloodied patches. When I am finished, I reach for a first-aid kit and apply new ones.

"You need to see a doctor," I say in a commanding voice.

Dante shoots me a warm, uncharacteristically submissive look.