It doesn’t quite go as planned. Granted, I strip, but I also take half of my dress with it. I realize my panties are showing, and so are my horrible lily white legs. Great. I feel my cheeks go pink and I refuse to look at Dimitri as I kneel. Before I touch him, I look up. He’s staring at me with that look again. That gorgeous, lusty, intense look.
“I know it doesn’t mean anything and it won’t change that this will be uncomfortable for you, but I need you to know I would never hurt you, Dimitri. Never.”
His eyes soften and he narrows them, staring at me as though he just can’t figure me out. I give him a weak smile and reach down, gently taking his ankle. He flinches and when I take a moment to peek at him, his jaw is tight and his eyes are closed. Poor man. I focus back on what I’m doing. I fasten the thickest part over the gash and then tie it tightly. When I’m done, I pat his knee softly and he opens his eyes.
“All done. You did good.”
I stand and stare around, needing one more thing. I see a group of thick branches that have fallen from a tree nearby. I climb a few rocks until I reach them. I sort through them until I find a thick enough one that Dimitri can use to lean on as he walks. I take it back to him, and hold it out.
“It’s now or never, soldier.”
Oh, his eyes are all light and gorgeous again.
“What is the stick for?”
“Hate to break it to ya,” I say casually, leaning on it. “But you’re going to have to let me help you walk back. This is going to assist in our mission.”
He quirks a brow. “Go on . . .”
“You’ll hold the stick, see?” I say, demonstrating. “While your arm is around my shoulder. Together, the stick and I will help you back.”
He’s already shaking his head. “No, I’m six foot of muscle and you’re . . .”
“What?” I challenge.
“You’re tiny.”
“Remember what I said about explosives?”
He shakes his head. “The stick will be fine.”
“No,” I say, holding it away from him when he reaches for it. “It won’t be.”
“Jessica, give me the stick.”
“I shall not.”
He drops his head and grumbles something before lifting it and trying again. “Give. Me. The. Stick.”
“Do you want to die, Dimitri?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
I shake my head, twirling the stick with my fingertip. “No, it’s quite logical given that you could get an infection, or make it worse by leaning on it, so, I ask again, do you want to die?”
“What do you think?”
“Well, from what I’ve guessed, no. But you never know. Being that you’re all ‘doom and gloom, must seek revenge’ . . . and all that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“No,” he grinds out. “I don’t want to die.”
“Good-O, then stand up and let me help you. If you don’t, you’ll stay up here and freeze or bleed to death. It’s up to you.”
He glares at me for a solid minute, but he does get to his feet. He’s got his sore ankle off the ground, so I step forward and hand him the stick. He uses it to support his weight and I step closer, nudging my shoulder into his side.
“You can do it,” I say in my best encouraging voice. It may or may not be a little sarcastic, too.
With an annoyed sigh, he lifts his arm and puts it over my shoulder.
“See, that wasn’t so bad. I’m not buckling under your man muscles.”
He sighs again.
“Come on then, we need to get off the rocks. To do that we need to navigate one at a time.”
“Well, I wasn’t about to leap over all of them. Fuck, you only gave me one stick. I might be good but shit . . .”
I feign a gasp. “Why, Dimitri. Was that a . . . dare I say . . .
a joke?”
“Just keep walking.”
“You and I will be great friends. Just you wait.”
“Jessica,” he says, his voice slightly amused.
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
“On it.”
We manage to get over the rocks, figuring out if he sits on his bum and slides we can navigate them far easier. When we reach the flat ground, we can only move slowly. His ankle is hurting him—I can tell because he hisses every now and then, and I know it’s not because of me, because I’m not talking to him. We reach the stream, but I know as well as he does that we’ve still got a solid hour and a half of walking left, and he’s buckling already. The evening is about to be upon us and I don’t know how much further I can push him.
“Stop here,” I say, pointing to the stream. “Put your ankle in. Trust me, it’ll feel better.”
He doesn’t argue. Pretty sure he knows I’m right. We sit beside the water and I help him put his foot in. I can see the instant relief on his face. I sit beside him, putting my sore feet in.
“I know I’m pretty super, but I’m not sure we’ll make it back tonight. Any plans?”
“Are you always making jokes?” he asks randomly.
“Huh?” I say, giving him a puzzled expression.
“You seem to be able to find the funny in everything. Aside from the first night I tied you up, I’ve not seen genuine fear from you.”