Fated Lies (Lies 3)

All I can do is cradle him in my arms and wait.

The sun flickers in before Langston wakes up. I’ve been holding him in my arms for the last couple of hours, studying everything about his body. I have my suspicions about where he’s injured, but I won’t know for sure until he’s awake.

“Langston?” My heart clenches as his eyes open. I’ve been worried all night about what happened to him, but I also know that he’s going to be in pain now that he’s awake. He might even remember the torture he went through. And watching him go through that pain is going to hurt.

“There you are, beautiful.”

I run my hand through his locks as I smile down at him. “You must still be drugged up to call me beautiful.”

He shakes his head. “You’re always the most beautiful woman in any room, my huntress.”

I blush. I’m not used to compliments coming from him.

“How are you feeling?” My smile drops, and a look of concern crosses my face. I’m hoping that I’m wrong—that he’s not injured. That they just questioned him and then threw him back in this tower with me.

“Better, now that I’m in your arms.”

A flicker of a smile returns to my face as I stroke his face. He grabs my hand, and I can tell his intention is to kiss the back of my hand, but the rough growl he lets out instead rips through my chest.

I grab his arm and hold it against his chest to keep him from moving it.

“Hold still.”

Langston tries to sit up, but I push his chest, trying to get him to stay down.

He groans. “I need to sit up and figure out where I’m hurt.”

“No, you need to lie down and relax while I work on fixing your shoulder and finding all your injuries.”

“I need—”

“Lie down,” I growl with a seriousness to my tone that finally makes him lie back down.

“You’re bossy when you’re concerned.” He smiles so wide his dimple shows.

“And you make a terrible patient.”

I hold his arm against his chest, suspecting that it’s popped out of the socket.

“Try moving your left arm, slowly.”

He does and immediately hisses.

Shit—both arms are injured.

He starts trying to sit up again and fuss with his arms.

“Stop moving.” My eyes bulge at him, my voice stern. I try to hold his arms against his chest in one place as I look at his legs.

“Now, trying moving each of your legs slowly.”

He lifts the right leg without any pain and then repeats the same process with the left leg.

“Legs seem fine,” Langston says.

I nod.

“I think your shoulders are out of their sockets.”