A Battle of Love and War

“Ouch! That hurts,” the prince grumbled, trying to choke back a cry of pain.

“Well hold still, and it won’t hurt,” Makenzie growled right back.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a hole in your chest.”

“And if it weren’t for my brothers, you wouldn’t be here to gripe and complain to me about it, so shut up, and don’t move!” Makenzie tied her hair up in a messy bun as she undressed the young man’s wounds.

Her father and brothers had never whined as much as her current patient, and she couldn’t deny that the lack of blood relation to the man had a slight effect on her less-than-gentle care. Makenzie had tried being nice and caring in the beginning, but her compassion was quick to fizzle out as his complaining increased exponentially. She tried to tune out his mutterings as she applied a special ointment to the wound to keep the flesh from corroding even more. Her brothers were definitely going to get an earful later for leaving her alone with ‘the patient.’ More like a royal pain in her ass.

“I’m sorry I don’t have some type of special power to make your skin grow together faster, so while you wait, you’re just going to have to stop moving!” With her last two words, Makenzie reached over his bare chest and pinned down the wrist that he was lifting.

“My neck itches! I was going to scratch it,” he complained.

“Fine. Whatever. Just don’t complain to me when your side starts hurting again.” Tristan, or Aston now, glared at the girl before slowly raising his hand up and scratching his neck. He winced slightly, as the movement did make his situation slightly uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to let Makenzie see that. He would have healed much faster had he not been skewered like a vampire shish kabob by a silver sword. The pure metal kept his skin cells from reproducing and growing back together again.

Aston let out a deep sigh, which also didn’t help his task of not moving and avoiding pain, as he watched Makenzie reapply a bandage to his wound. She really wasn’t hurting him too badly, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize that he liked her annoyed expression and found it all too enjoyable to be the cause of it. Besides, he had to do something to entertain himself while he was an invalid. Provoking Makenzie seemed to produce the desired effect.

“So am I to know the name of my torturer? Or am I to die ignorant of that fact?” he asked, breaking the silence and eager to watch her eyebrows crease in frustration.

“First off, you already know my name,” Makenzie replied sharply. “Secondly, and unfortunately, you are not going to die. And thirdly, I don’t know yours!”

Tristan didn’t bother to hide the amused grin that formed at her quick tongue. He was definitely right in pinning her as a feisty one earlier that evening. She had not disappointed him one bit thus far.

“First off,” he began, “I know I already know your name. Your brothers told me, but I thought it only a proper introduction to hear it from your poisonous lips. And secondly, you didn’t really mean unfortunately, did you?” His grin grew bigger as he caught her crimson gaze. “Admit it, my company is a welcomed change of pace for you. You like having me here, a helpless servant of your every command.”

Helpless? Yeah right. He may have been somewhat helpless physically, but his mouth was enough to drive her up the wall. Any thoughts of pity that she had once felt for the young man had vanished as his true colors began to show through. If anyone in her family complained about her being stubborn, she would force them to spend an hour in his company.

“And thirdly, you still haven’t told me your name,” she repeated, deciding to ignore his other charges for now.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” Aston watched as the girl rolled her eyes at his juvenile response. He was getting way too much enjoyment out of her annoyance, considering he’d only known her for a day.

“What are we? Five?” she asked as she placed the final piece of tape around his bandage. A small pout formed on the man’s lips as he locked eyes with Makenzie and nodded. More than her exasperation at the moment, Makenzie couldn’t believe that she was actually going to give in first. The excuse she kept telling herself was that he was hurt, and that was the only reason why she was playing along. “Fine. Makenzie Elise Alders. Now drink.” As she said her name, she pushed the jug of blood to his lips, not allowing him to speak until he drank.

When she lowered the jug, there was a smug grin plastered to the young man’s lips, covered in blood, as he spoke. “Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he asked as his tongue licked any remnants of blood from his lips. Makenzie merely grunted in response and made herself busy picking up the spoiled bandages. “I’m Aston Michael Locke,” Tristan said, making a mental note to tell Makenzie’s brothers of the extended name he’d just created. Hopefully he’d be able to remember it as well.

“And you never answered my other question,” he added innocently, Makenzie still aware of the perfectly formed grin on his lips. It was much more evident now that the blood and dirt had been cleaned away.

“Which was?”

“You don’t really want me dead, do you? You like having me here. My company isn’t that dull.”

“Dull, no. Unfortunate, yes.” Makenzie finished cleaning up the area and then sat down quickly beside Aston, ignoring his sharp intake of breath at the pain her sharp movement caused on his body. At that point, she believed he deserved any bits of pain he felt.

“Do you think I have nothing better to do than sit her listening to you whine and complain?” she asked, her eyes dark and narrowed and her tongue sharp. “My father still hasn’t returned from battle. My mother is devastated. My older brothers are talking about going back out to look for him. My younger brother is trying to find a way to sneak out with them. And my sister is whinier and more annoying than usual right now, which I didn’t know could be possible. So no, I don’t want you dead, but there are definitely a few other places I’d rather be at the moment than taking care of a whiny, stubborn, spoiled, little brat.”

In reality, Makenzie didn’t really have anywhere else to be. Her brothers were busy at the moment, and there was nothing she could do until they made a decision about going after her father. Taking care of Aston, no matter how annoying it was, at least kept her mind off of everything for the most part. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell him that. Besides, keeping busy by doctoring Aston was more to save her sanity than anything else. Makenzie hadn’t bothered to take a breath during her rant, and it was only afterward that she noticed the seriousness of Aston’s face. His grin had fallen during her speech, and he almost looked….guilty?

“Makenzie? I – I’m sorry about being a bother, and I’m sorry about your father,” Aston began, his eyes dropping to his hand as he slowly reached out and placed it on top of hers. “I’m sure he’s still out there. And if you take after him at all, then he’ll be much too stubborn to let a few demons take him down.”

Makenzie couldn’t help but to chuckle at his sentiment. “Thanks,” she whispered. They sat in silence for a few moments, Makenzie’s thoughts trailing to the whereabouts of her father as she absentmindedly cleaned off one of Aston’s shoulders. She’d already wiped away all of the blood, but Makenzie was hardly paying attention.

Aston really did feel sorry for the girl, and he had yet to mourn for his own losses, but he would have to wait to do that until he was alone. And at the moment, he didn’t mind the company. He found Makenzie to be very pretty, granted all vampires were beautiful. Perhaps it was her quick wit and stubbornness that added a bit more life into the vivid red eyes that stared back at him. Aston also happened to find her eyes absolutely intoxicating. There was so much life and spirit behind them that he hadn’t been accustomed too as of late with all of the stress and tension surrounding the kingdom, the castle, and his family.

He closed his eyes in the few moments of silence and focused in on the soothing motions of the cloth wiping away the last remnants of battle. He found himself extra sensitive to the times when the cloth would slip out from under Makenzie’s fingers, letting her soft skin trace patterns across his shoulder. It gave him an idea which he knew was most likely going to annoy her, but his basic instincts as a man urged him on.

“So, Makenzie…I’ve been thinking,” he began, his eyes remaining closed. “With me being unable to move due to the doctor’s orders, does this entitle me to a sponge bath?”
His eyes remained closed, so he didn’t catch the look of shock that spread across Makenzie’s face, though he did notice her hand and cloth freeze right above his heart. Of course, with his eyes closed, that also meant that he didn’t see the sly smirk that followed the shocked expression.

Makenzie leaned in closely so that her cheek lightly brushed Aston’s, her hand gently resting on the unharmed side of his bare chest, and her lips hovering an inch away from his ear. “Of course you’re entitled to a sponge bath. I don’t want you moving in your condition. I’ll go get Hector. He’s the one that gives the dogs a bath.”

With that, she quickly leaned off of Aston and skipped back a couple steps from the bed. “You stay put. Hector will be up right away,” she winked as she turned to walk towards the door.

“Makenzie-e-e,” Aston groaned. “That’s so not fair.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that afterlife isn’t fair?” Makenzie’s words echoed in the room, followed by the sound of the door shutting behind her.

Aston dropped his head onto his pillow and let out another groan, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach that lingered from when she was leaning over him. An after-effect of unconsciousness. That’s all it was.

Not a minute later, Aston heard the door to his room open again. Without raising his head, a grin spread across his features. “I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for long,” he joked

“Who could, you stud-muffin, you?” The voice that accompanied the words was not the sarcastic melody of Makenzie, however. Aston’s eyes shot open, and he lifted his head up enough to see a very large, muscular vampire standing at the foot of his bed.

“Hector?”

“At your service,” the tall man said with a wink, a sponge in one hand and towel in the other.