Drake stomped into the bathroom and washed the blood from his hands. There were several scratches and bite marks from the animal’s struggles but they weren’t life threatening. Using soap and a good scrubbing he cleaned his wounds.
Once clean he stood with his hands braced on the sink.
Her mention of blood had broken whatever spell she’d cast over him and reminded him of what he was. A killer. His hands were stained in blood no amount of washing would ever cleanse.
What had he been thinking joking with Brooklyn. Teasing her. But when she offered to help him he couldn’t help but laugh. Even in street clothes she was still a city girl. She didn’t belong in the mountains any more than he did in the city.
He needed be keep his distance from her. He was too volatile, too broken. What had
