Caged (Savage Men 1)

When I look at him from up close, the slashes in his skin draw my attention. They’re thick and deep … blood seeping out. Especially the knife wound is deep. Gashes on his face and mouth are bleeding the most, so I dab them with a wet piece of cloth to make it stop.

I grasp a few pieces of cotton and dab them into a bottle of alcohol to sanitize the wounds. Then I wrap the dressings around them, tying it up. It’s not great, but it’s something.

Some of his wounds are too deep, though, so I grab a needle and thread to suture it up, trying to finish as quickly as possible before he can feel it. I don’t want to hurt him even more. When it’s done, I grab the cloth and hold it under the faucet until it’s soaked. I wipe him off to get rid of the blood and then wrap more bandages around him.

I’m struggling to contain the tears, but I fight through them as I patch him up as best as I can. I lift him off me and softly place him on the floor before getting up to grab a cup of water. He needs to hydrate quickly, so I sit down beside him again and try to wake him up.

“Cage?” I whisper. “Please …”

I hold the cup to his lips but no success.

Another tear rolls down. I can’t believe I’m crying right now. Maybe I really do care more about him than I could ever imagine. Him dying is the worst possible thing I could imagine right now. Worse than being stuck in this cell forever.

“Please … don’t leave me here alone,” I whisper.

A soft groan comes out, but the sound elates me, electrical currents shooting through me when I hear him. He’s alive … for now.

I pull him into my arms and hug him tight. “You fought so hard …” I whisper into his ear. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

When I pull away again, his eyes slowly open into little slits, his frown showing his pain. He coughs, and more blood comes out. I dab another piece of cloth against his lips.

“Don’t push yourself,” I say. “Take it slow.”

He licks his lips and squints again, groaning. He tries to move, but I hold him down.

“You’re hurt badly. Take it easy,” I say. “No need to move. Just let your body heal.”

He turns in my arms. Even though he’s already bleeding through his bandages, he doesn’t care. His hand reaches up for my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.

“Ella …” he grumbles from deep down his throat.

My eyes fill with tears, but I blink them away as I place my hand on top of his. “I’m here.”

“My Ella …” he says, barely keeping his eyes open.

“It’s okay. We’re together,” I say. “You won.”

He groans, but I swear I can almost see a hint of a smile right after. “Of course.”

I grin at his arrogance. I kind of love him for it.

Yes … Yes, I realize it now. I do love him. I love how he is. So beastly yet so innocent and pure. And he’s got a heart of gold.

I press a small kiss to his forehead. “I love you …”

I don’t fear saying the word. Not anymore.

He made me forget about the guilt that ate away at my heart. He made me love the power of my own words again, and for that, I’m not just grateful … I’m in love.

He coughs but then smiles again, leaning into my touch. “Love …” he repeats. “I like that.”

I can’t stop smiling, but I’m worried if he moves too much he might make the wounds worse.

“But I can only love you if you keep living,” I say. “So stay still and rest.”

“Hmm …” He rubs his lips together.

“Water?” I ask, holding the cup close.

He sips eagerly, choking on half but swallowing the rest. “Easy, easy,” I say.

“Thank you …” he says. I’ve not heard him say those words before. It sounds nice when he says it. I could get used to it.

I put the cup back down again, but he keeps looking at me like I have something on my face. Not that he should be concerned about that. He needs to heal, not focus on me.

“What?” I ask.

He grins. “I love you.”

I pause. Did he just say he loves me?

He coughs again, and I dab the cloth against his mouth to remove the blood.

“I love you,” he says again, his eyes focusing on mine. No matter where I look, he follows my eyes.

“I love you,” he repeats. He keeps saying it until I laugh.

“Okay, I get it,” I say. “You love me.”

“Yes,” he says. “Forever.”

He leans up, groaning, but when I try to push him down, he refuses. He persists until he reaches me and grabs my face … and then he kisses me hard.