“I may, however, stab the fucker in the eye with one. I woke when I landed with a jolt of half-numbed pain as my bad hand hit a stone floor. I tried not to scream because Jake’s boots were in front of me. Tried not to throw up, too, but didn’t manage that. I lay there, panting, the taste of stale bile filling my mouth and the vague imitation of pain filling my head, making it twist, wondering what the fuck I was doing. I couldn’t be sure any more because it was all too much, and I wanted to rest..., somewhere quiet. In the black. I wanted to forget everything else, wanted it very badly indeed. A flicker of movement in front of me resolved into Jake, who seemed torn between worry and spitting-blood-angry if the way she clenched her jaw was anything to go by. I fought to stop the shudders and only partially succeeded. She held out a hesitant hand, let it waver by my shoulder. Hated to touch, be touched, she always had, though she managed with Pasha now. And with me, because the hand fell soft on my shoulder and she helped me to sitting before she turned away to Pasha as he struggled upright.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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