Hand still resting on Hounacier, he glared at the alarm clock. 6:30. Grimacing in pain, he stretched his arm and turned it off. Malcolm was pretty certain the incubus had fractured at least one of his ribs. The whole side stung with every movement. Broken or not, doctors wouldn't be able to do anything about that, and walking into a hospital just after an alley decapitation wouldn't have been a good idea. Still, Malcolm sure wished he had something for the pain. What few meds he'd had were given to Orlovski for the drive. Gingerly, he crawled from the bed and checked his phone. Allan hadn't messaged. Hopefully a good sign. Not bothering to turn on the light, Malcolm shuffled to the bathroom. A pathetic sight greeted him in the mirror. White gauze encased his nose, a rust-brown spot along the bridge, framed by a purplish pair of black eyes. The bleeding had finally stopped around 2:00. The dark bruise along his side had spread to maybe six inches across.
What do You think about Hounacier (Valducan Book 2)?
