Saved By The Pirate (Book One)

13. In The Company Of A Pirate

"You are not touching me," I said.

Christopher shook his head, clearly annoyed. "I have to; you can't possibly do it yourself without hurting yourself."

Christopher got me clean sheets and new clothes, and I was thankful and all, but I still felt like punching him until he saw stars. Either way, I was locked in a room with him for company. I didn't care how nice he was trying to be; he kept me against my will.

Again.

And I was fully capable of taking care of myself. I didn't need Christopher to wrap up my wound for me. He just needed to give me the bandage.

"I won't hurt myself if you would just let me show you-"

"Fine."

I blinked. "Did you just-"

"I did, now take the bandage before I change my mind." He did! Oh, sweet, sweet win. I needed one. So, with a flashing smile, I took the bandage from him.

"Don't forget the alcohol," Christopher reminded me. I glared at him, but took the bloody bottle he held out.

"And don't forget-"

"If you say that one more time, I will make sure you won't forget my fist hitting your face!"

I half expected him to stay silent. I wanted him to, but the man couldn't help himself. He looked me square in the face, smirked, and said, "You know, darling, I'm sensing an anger problem. I advise you to get that checked out."

Checked out? He should've 'checked out' the bottom of the ocean with an anvil tied to him.

"Says the one with cockiness problem. Tell me, Captain, have you been suffering with it long? I hear it does things to your head to make you believe you're more than you are."

Take that, Topher.

"Cockiness? I wouldn't call it that. No, no, I call it, showing my abilities to the world and proving my dominance. I am the captain of this ship, am I not? That is just the qualities of an excellent captain."

I narrowed my eyes. Every word, every argument that seemed to come out of my mouth, got twisted up to prove me wrong or to humiliate me. And I'm getting fed up about it.

"So, are we going to argue all day, or are ye going to wrap that leg of yours?"

I muttered a few curses under my breath, cursing the day that this man ever came into this world. Damn him, damn him, damn him!

I got to work and dabbed a bit of the alcohol on a fresh scrap of cloth and slowly put it to my leg. I gritted my teeth once it touched, but didn't dare moan.

Christopher watched me, and I knew he just had to be smiling or laughing to himself, watching my discomfort. I didn't want to look up at him, knowing that my cheeks would turn red if I did. I glanced at him, though, just out of curiosity, and found him watching me steadily like he was afraid I might hurt myself more than I already have.

I ignored it, though. The pirate was probably waiting for me to mess up, so he could prove me wrong again—bloody hell.

After successfully applying the burning alcohol to my cut (yay), I pushed the bottle and the cloth to the side and grabbed the bandage.

Again, I felt the burning pain, and just as I had done before, I tried not to moan in pain as I raised my leg to my chest. I bit the inside of my cheek as I wrapped the cloth around my leg.

I must have been too tired to consider the proper care for my cut because it hurt like hell. But I guess that's what you get when you wrap it in only a kitchen towel stolen from the gallery with no thought of what might happen in the morning, especially when a pirate was involved.