“I need to take your shirt off, Valerie,” the King fiercely commanded, his eyes blazing. “No.” I let out a loud shriek, followed by a wince at the rapid movement of trying to move away from him. “We need to properly clean your side.” His nose flared. I took in a large breath. I was too weak to handle the painful beating of my heart against my ribs. “No,” I panted out again. This was non-negotiable. The King's eyes flashed swiftly from the large injury to my eyes, as if trying to gauge how serious I was. He looked like he was momentarily considering pinning me down onto the bed and taking my shirt off before he let out a long sigh, wiping his other hand over his face. I wanted him out of my personal space. “Valerie, I need to see the full extent of the injury,” the King spoke quietly, like he was speaking to a wounded, out-of-control animal. “I'm not that hurt. I'll hold my shirt up, and then you can treat it,” I blurted out in a rush, hiding my shaking fingers. I could never l
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