KATHERINE

Our breathing grows heavy, rushed.

I feel the sparks crackling in the air, the scent of excitement.

"I think… I’d better check if dinner is ready. The lady of the house said it wouldn’t be much longer. You must be hungry."

He springs up like a coiled wire, putting distance between himself and the bed, leaving me there, leaning forward like a fool, lips pursed, as he strides toward the old wooden door.

"Aren't you going to check my wound?" I ask in a soft voice—seductive, or so I think