book 5: wounds

Modesty had gotten him good. The now bleeding and angry wound on his chest throbbed more than he cared to admit. He stood there, blood dripping down his shoulder, watching her leave. She was sick and in no shape to be leaving, but she was her own woman and he wasn't going to argue. There was a fury there that he knew not to mess with. It was one of the things he loved about her so much. Fuck, he loved Modesty. How had he screwed it all up this bad?

Angry, sad, and so many more emotions that he didn't want to feel, Gil waited until she couldn't be seen anymore. The weather was beginning to turn and the fog that rolled in before an oncoming storm made it hard to see all the way across the courtyard. Torn between following her and following through with his own promise, Gil turns from the doorway and heads upstairs. Once he makes it to the landing, he is surprised to hear the scuffle of Jael. The sound of fire crackling in the hearth lures him into his rooms. The wide open living space is lit with warmth as he watches her from the doorway.

"She's gone," he whispers, fighting back his own batch of tears that prickle at his eyes.