He's Alive, Right?

We don't sleep outside all night. Maybe for only a part of it because when I turn over to Lucian, I'm in our bed and Lucian is perched on the side holding my hands in his.

I blink blearily up at him. "Lucian?"

He raises his eyes from my hands. "Shh, go back to sleep." "What are you doing?"

He sighs. "Trying to prove I'm a better mate than I am."

Confused, I lower my head to take in the damp cloth he's using to clean my hands. "You woke to clean the blood off my hands?"

"You were hurt, and instead of taking care of you, I was—"

"Taking care of another need?" I interrupt, fighting the urge to smile. He lifts his gaze from my hands. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"I'm okay. My hands don't hurt. Not anymore."

His eyes search mine as if he's not convinced. "Promise. Now come back to bed."

After giving my hands one last swipe with the cloth, he places it in a bowl of water on the bedside table and slips under the sheets.