Anastasia didn’t collapse in his arms as he expected her to. No, she scowled at him.
“You couldn’t have ridden up here on your white horse before the fucking snake bit me?”
“You don’t need to carry me into the house,” I snapped. “I can walk.”
Duke didn’t respond, but only part of it was because he was in full macho-man mode. The rest of it was because the door to the house opened and Anna rushed out. Her eyes took us in, widened, but then calmed. “What happened?”
“Snake bite,” Duke clipped, rounding his mother and walking into the living room where he deposited me like I was the most precious thing in the world.
It was a little late to treat me like I was fragile after he’d spent time breaking me.
“I’ll get the car started so we can take her to the hospital,” Anna said in a calm tone that matched her expression. This was not a woman to crack or panic under pressure. I tried to mimic that.
“No hospital,” Duke barked.
This gave Anna pause. She stared at her son as he laid me down on the sofa. I waited for her to ask more questions. I certainly would want to know why her son—who up until this point, had acted like an overprotective macho-asshole—wouldn’t want to take his girlfriend to be treated by medical professionals after she was bitten by a goddamn snake.
I was almost wondering that myself. Granted, my knowledge of rattlesnakes was limited, but I was pretty damn sure they were poisonous. But I knew as much as the man might not like me, he would’ve assessed the risk factors in taking me to a hospital. If I were a nobody with a highly connected murderer after them, it might’ve been different. As it was, Anastasia Edwards being taken into a hospital in Montana with a snake bite would be news.
And Kitsch was obviously more dangerous than a rattlesnake.
Anna had her pause, long enough for me to think all of this—but she didn’t question her son further. It said a lot about what she thought of him, how much she trusted him.
“How about I call David Hollows?” she said. “He retired this year and is discreet.”
Duke’s hands were probing the area around the two small puncture wounds in my upper calf. “Yeah, call him.”
Anna nodded once then moved to squeeze my hand. “You’re gonna be just fine, honey.”
Then she left the room.
“Aren’t you supposed to elevate it?” I asked Duke, trying my best to sound brave and badass.
It was hard. Fricking hard. I was scared. I didn’t want to die or lose my leg. But I also knew that Duke would do everything in his power to make sure neither of those things happened. Surely it would hurt his paycheck.
His eyes flickered upward, locking on mine. “That’s a myth,” he said. “Dangerous one. Raising the area only helps any blood containing venom reach your heart easier.”
I sucked in a breath. “Oh, that’s just wonderful.”
The granite in his eyes softened…just a tad. “Know this is much easier said than done, and you’re already doin’ a great job, but do your best to stay calm. Rapid heart rate increases blood flow too.”
“And let me guess, speeds up venom getting to my heart?” I asked dryly. “Good thing it’s cold and black then, isn’t it?”
His eyes went hard again. He apparently wasn’t happy with me joking at a time like this—when he was trying to show off all his badass macho-man skills. Well that was just too damn bad, since it was my body and all.
“Here you go, hon, thought you might need this,” Harriet said, holding out a shot glass. I hadn’t heard her come in since my mind was split between focusing on Duke and the possibly fatal snake bite. My mind should’ve been focused on the latter, but I was getting more and more aware that even the prospect of imminent death didn’t dull the man’s effect on me.
If anything, it intensified it.
“You can’t give her booze,” Duke snapped. “It’ll thin her blood.”
“And calm her nerves,” Harriet retorted, shaking the glass at me.
I took it and drank it quickly, not putting it past Duke to snatch it from my hands. It burned going down, but did give me something else to focus on rather than the hot, tight pain in my leg.
Harriet grinned, doing her own shot. “I’ll get more.”
“Don’t you—” Duke started to say, but the woman was already gone.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered.
“How do you know about all of this?” I asked, trying to distract him and me both. “Were you a medic or something?”
I knew he was former Army. I couldn’t remember how I knew it. Did someone tell me? Or did it just make absolute sense considering the way he handled himself, spoke, and worked for a security firm?