Chapter 63

His words stopped both her protest and her struggles cold.
"What?"
His hand dropped away from her wrist, went back to his lap to cradle his injured arm. "I told you that you weren't the only one with secrets. No doctors. Please."
Well! Tonight just seemed to be full of surprises. But it made sense in an odd sort of way. Sure explained why he hadn't freaked out when she shifted from seal to woman right at his feet. She leaned one hip against the sink and crossed her arms over her chest. "Will you really be okay?"
He nodded just a fraction of an inch. He wasn't bleeding much anymore, but the gray tinge to his skin and the tight set of his jaw told her he was still in a hell of a lot of pain. He was still gorgeous though. She tried not to notice how smooth his skin was - or how yummy he looked with the thick patch of white-blond hair on his chest.
"What do you need?"
"I need the bullet out. My body will heal itself, but healing around a chunk of lead would be bad."
Yeah, she could see where that might be a problem. But... "You want me to dig a bullet - out of you?"
"Please?"
Awww, fuck. How was she supposed to tell him no when he'd gotten shot protecting her? But she honestly didn't know if she could. She was more than a little squeamish when it came to blood. That's one reason she never hunted when she was in seal form like her sister and mother did. She preferred her fish fully cooked and on a plate with a nice rice pilaf. But she looked at him again, so sexy and big and hurt. She let her shoulders slump. "How?"
"There's a knife in the inside pocket of my jacket. First aid supplies in my duffle bag.
"Will you be okay while I go get them? If you pass out on me, I'm calling an ambulance, even if you are a vampire or something."
The faintest trace of a grin ghosted across his handsome face. "Gargoyle, not vampire. Go. I'm not going to pass out."
Gargoyle? She pondered that one while she dug the wicked looking lock blade knife out of his coat. Then she draped the bomber over a chair back and went rooting through his duffle bag. His first aid supplies seemed to consist of a box of gauze pads and a roll of waterproof tape. No antiseptic or anything of that nature to be found. Hmmm. Maybe gargoyles were immune to infection.
"So shouldn't you be made out of rock or something?" She set her limited supplies down on the bathroom counter and turned on the hot water tap. "How come you bleed like a normal person?"
"Not rock all the time," he murmured. "Will be as soon as the bullet's out. It's how we recover."
"O-o-o-kay." Hadn't seen that one coming. Which was kind of funny, considering she could heal minor injuries by changing into a seal. "You have any alcohol or anything?"
"Don't worry about germs," he told her. "Not a problem."
"If you say so."
She shrugged out of her quilted nylon jacket. The sleeves were too long and would get in her way. She bit her lip and studied the wound. How was she supposed to do this?
"Cut a big X with the knife." He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. "Go slowly and use the tip of the blade to find the bullet. Then if you can, use your fingers to wiggle it out. If it's stuck in the bone, you'll have to get a pair of pliers out of the tool box in my car."
She didn't quite suppress the horrified whimper that rose up out of her throat. "C-cut..."
"Give me the knife. I'll do it myself." His voice was a gravelly rasp. "It's okay."
"No." Determination added steel to her spine. After all he'd done for her tonight she wasn't going to make him dig the bullet out of his own damn shoulder. "How big an X?"
"Your fingers are pretty small. A centimeter or two on each side of the hole ought to do it." He picked up a bath towel and twisted it into a knot with his good hand. Then he turned to face the wall and lifted his bad arm to rest on the toilet tank. He gripped the twist of cloth in his other hand, and leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall. "Whenever you're ready, cherie."
She rinsed the four inch blade under the hot water anyway, and wiped it off with a wash cloth. Then she inhaled a deep breath and held it. Her teeth bit down into her lower lip as she raised the point and held it above the wound.
There! She pushed the point into his skin and felt the sickening squelch of his flesh as the razor-sharp blade sank in. Remy grunted and she felt his muscles bunch, but he didn't scream or jump away, which somehow only made her feel worse.
"Good girl. Now one more."
Why the hell was he calmer about this than she was? She drew in another breath and repeated the cut. This time she felt the tip of the knife come up against a hard, solid object.
"That's it. You can do this, cherie."
Mari dropped the bloody knife into the sink and sank her teeth back into her lip. You can do this, she repeated mentally. Then she forced herself to stick the tip of her index finger into the hole.
"Merde!"
She knew what that meant in French. Shit! She couldn't blame him a bit, since she felt like swearing herself. She located the oddly shaped metallic lump. It wriggled, which caused Remy to groan. But she knew that was good, in a way. "It's not stuck."
"Good. Just get it the hell out of there, please." His voice was muffled against the wall or maybe he was biting down on the towel.
"I'm trying." She added a second finger and managed to pinch the bullet between the two tips. Then as smoothly as she could, she drew her fingers back, pulling the lump of lead with them.
It pulled free with a sucking sound. Mari dropped it into the trash can and picked up another towel, pressing down on the freshly bleeding wound. Then she leaned over the sink and lost the remains of her dinner.