“When I saw you like that, bleeding all over the damn place, and I couldn’t wake you up, I was scared, Trin.”

My heart flopped over. “Because you thought you might die?”

“You know damn well that’s not the reason.” His voice was low.

A hundred different things I needed to say rose to the tip of my tongue. I didn’t know where to start, but it didn’t matter. The door opened, and as Zayne leaned back, I saw Jasmine hurry into the room carrying a tray of bandages, towels, bowls and shiny silver objects. Her long dark hair was pulled up and out of her face and she was wearing some kind of house robe. She drew up short. “You’re awake.”

“I am.” I expected to see Danika follow her sister, but she didn’t.

“She woke up about ten minutes ago,” Zayne added. “And already thinks she can get out of bed.”

“I’m sure you advised her that wasn’t a wise idea.” Jasmine sat the tray on the stand near the bed.

“More like demanded,” I muttered.

Zayne shot me a dark look.

“I’m sorry it took so long to gather everything from the medical facility. It would’ve been quicker to treat her there.” Jasmine hurried around the bed.

“No one else needs to see her right now. Just you,” Zayne answered.

Jasmine didn’t reply as she sat beside me on the other side. “I want to take a closer look at the back of your head as that’s the most pressing concern. I wasn’t able to see it well when he brought you in.”

“Okay.” I was wondering what she thought she was going to do with those tools. “You need me to sit up?”

“How about you just turn your head toward Zayne. That should work.”

I did as she ordered.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to roll onto your side. Can you do that?”

“Yeah—”

Zayne intercepted when I started to roll, curving a hand over my shoulder and hip, turning me onto my side like I was a log. He held me there. I scowled, thinking he was being a bit dramatic.

“Zayne, can you hand me that pen light?” Arms moved over my head as I stared at what I realized was Zayne’s exposed navel.

“How’s the bleeding?” Zayne asked.

“Let me see...” Jasmine pushed my hair aside. Her soft inhale concerned me.

“What?” My gaze met Zayne’s. “Is my brain visible or something?”

“Quite the opposite.” Jasmine sounded too unsettled for that to be something good. “Your skin is...”

“What?” I asked, starting to twist toward her, but Zayne stopped me. “Is my skin missing?”

Zayne frowned as his gaze moved beyond me. “What is it, Jasmine?”

“Does this hurt?” she asked instead, and then I felt her fingers just below the crown of my head, probing gently.