“No more training,” he growled, adjusting the waistband on my hips. “No more hiding your pain.” He stalked over to the bench and grabbed a towel. “No more lying.” He wiped a streak of smeared blood off my thigh. “No fucking more!” “I’ll be fine,” I strangled out, shaking from head to toe. “Fine?” Gibsie spat out, pausing midpace to glare at me. “Oh yeah, because you look fucking peachy right now, bleeding your mini fucking Johnnys all over the bed.”
