Time: the healer and the killer.
I almost weep with relief when the last stitch is expertly applied.
Archer grabs the two waterproof gauzes he found and wraps my abdomen gently. Being sure not to touch my injury.
I sag against the mirror in exhaustion, my blonde hair clinging to my neck and collarbones. I notice a few strands have been stained red with blood and I sigh, wondering how it even go there.
Archer seems to notice as well since he guides me off the counter and towards the shower. Turning it on, he pushes me closer but not too close as to get drenched.
Grabbing the ends of my hair in his hands he puts it under the spray of the water and rinses the blood from it. Grabbing my conditioner, he put the tiniest amount on the tip of his fingers and coats the wet tips of my hair with it.
Once applied he rinses it off.
He stares at the rest of my hair in thought before he glances into my eyes.
"What?" I ask astonished.
"Get in."
"What?"
"I need to wash your hair."
"Archer. It's fine. I'll wash it later."
"Get in. The shower." He sounds out, the words punctuated clearly.
"Arch—"
"Eleven."
I sigh and walk in, too tired to care at this point.
His fingers are soothing as they run through my hair. He grabs the detachable shower head and wets my hair, being careful of my stomach. I tilt my head back as the warm water runs through the length. His hand grabs my shoulder, and the shower head is placed in my hand away from my wound.
He stretches to run the conditioner through my hair, his clothes getting wet.
He looks at me with a raised brow, staring at my hands as the water continues to spray him.
I look down, twisting the shower head away from him and smiling apologetically.
"Sorry." I whisper as his fingers entangle in my hair.
He rolls his eyes, a smirk gracing his face and steps further in, taking the shower head off of me.
He places it back in the holder, letting the water hit his back as he shields me from the spray.
His hands land back in my hair, massaging the conditioner through the strands.
My head falls back slightly, my eyes meeting his.
He smiles at me, his fingers massaging the back of my neck.
Water spills through his dark hair, running over his shoulder and soaking his shirt.
The fabric clings to his skin, the ridges, and dips of his muscles on show.
I swallow, lifting my eyes back to his.
Water droplets have gathered on his lashes, his lips wet.
I look away from them and straighten.
It's only then I notice his fingers have stopped their movements.
"Elle." His voice is rough, an edge to it I've never heard from anyone before.
His hands settle on my shoulders, thumbs drawing circles on my collarbones as he draws me in.
YOU ARE READING
Alliance || 1 || ✔️ mature
ActionHer most lethal weapon is herself . . . • • • Agent Eleven was always a loyal Agent for the Division. Until she wasn't. Running and going rogue a year ago had definitely put her on their hit list, but what happens when they find her again and forc...
