Chapter 3York studied Torbjorn as he helped him out of his jacket. Why didn’t he want to be with him? They were meant to be, made for each other, and Torbjorn wanted him gone. It didn’t make sense.
“You will leave.” Torbjorn glared at him as he tossed the jacket on the island.
“Can I clean up there?” York motioned at a sink by the wall. He winced as he pulled his shirt over his head. His arm throbbed and protested with every movement. When he looked over his shoulder, Torbjorn had moved into the corner, as far away from York as he could get without leaving the room. What the hell was going on?
He made sure the water was a pleasant temperature and rinsed his arm. It stung. The edges of the wound were ragged, the punctures of the canines deep, but it had coagulated nicely. It bled again n
