Wrong Side Of Dead Read Online Free PDF

items—bandages, medical tape, alcohol, gauze, scissors. He turned, once again presenting his back. I wetted some gauze with the alcohol and paused to assess the playing field. This wasn’t going to work.
    “Okay, Phin,” I said, “I need you to drop your pants.”
    “I—pardon me?”

Chapter Three
     

Saturday, July 26
12:20 A.M.
     
    Phin turned his head far enough to see me over his shoulder. “Drop my pants?”
    “Yes, please. The wound is too low and your jeans are in the way.”
    “I was uncertain if I would have to shift this evening.”
    I frowned. “Okay. And?”
    “In the interest of expediency, I wore as few layers as possible.”
    What the hell was he—? Oh
. “You’re not wearing underwear?”
    “Correct.”
    “I’ve seen you naked, you know.”
    He turned completely around, his face a question mark. As a general rule, Therians weren’t shy about nudity, but he was always more careful than most about exposing himself. In front of me, at any rate. “You have?” he asked.
    “Well, I was half-delirious from smoke inhalation and it was hard to see through the inferno.”
    “I don’t—Oh, the factory fire.” Understanding dawned, and he smiled. It was a warm, friendly smile. “I suppose that’s only fair, as I’ve seen you naked, as well.”
    I forced a grin, even as my heart pounded against my ribs. Neither of our situations had been ideal; however,the reason he saw me naked nearly two months ago was one of the worst memories of my life. I shoved it away, not wanting to ponder the circumstances of that day and what that fucking pùca had done. Mimicking Wyatt’s body and face so perfectly, then knocking me out and stealing syringes of my blood. Driven by an instinctive need to leave chaos in its wake, the pùca made me believe, for the merest fraction of an instant, that Wyatt was actually hurting me.
    I looked at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but at Phin.
    Warm palms cupped my cheeks. “Evy, I am so sorry. That was a callous thing to say.”
    I swallowed against the acid creeping into my throat. Met his gaze and found myself staring into intense twin pools of concern. “It’s okay.”
    He pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowed, his sharp features displaying every bit of the predatory bird he shifted into. “No, it isn’t. It was meant in jest and it caused you pain, which wasn’t my intention.”
    “I know, Phin. I’m fine.”
    “I’m still sorry.”
    “Apology accepted.” I pressed gently into his hands, appreciating the gesture. The joy of simply being touched in a nonviolent manner. I curled my fingers around his right wrist and squeezed, marveling again at the hard muscle beneath feather-soft skin. “Thank you. Now turn around and drop your pants.”
    His eyebrows arched, and then he laughed. He undid his belt and shoved his jeans down to his knees. With the field clear (and my eyes firmly on the wound) I cleaned the skin around the slice, then put a clean gauze pad over it.
    “Hold this down hard,” I said.
    He reached around and pressed the pad against the cut while I opened a few butterfly bandages. I still thoughtit needed stitches, and I didn’t trust myself to apply the liquid bandage stuff to anyone besides myself.
    “Have you spoken to Wyatt recently?” he asked, breaking a perfectly good nonawkward silence.
    I swatted his hand away and peeled off the bloody gauze pad. The bleeding had slowed, but it was still oozing. “You mean besides him telling our squad to not get killed tonight as we left a few hours ago? No.” Two of the butterflies adhered easily. The third was refusing to stick, so I opened another.
    “Evy, may I ask you a personal question?”
    “Sure. Just remember your bare ass is at my mercy.”
    He chuckled, and I had an irrational urge to poke him in the ribs. I tore strips of medical tape instead. “What changed?”
    “You’re going to have to narrow that down.” I covered the butterflied wound with a clean gauze pad. Taped it down,