Chapter 32: Checking for wounds

May instinctively stepped back.

Ray didn’t say a word.

He seized her arm, spun her around, and pinned her hard against the wall. Before she could even react, that iron-tower frame of his pressed in. One hand locked around her waist; the other yanked at the collar of her flight-attendant uniform.

Riiip—

The already thin fabric tore straight open. Pale skin spilled into the open air.

Ray’s scorching breath washed over her collarbone. His movements were rough, completely without technique—like a beast that had gone three days without food and finally caught sight of meat.

"Ray, wake up! It’s me, May!"

She could feel the burning heat of his body seeping through the thin remaining fabric, turning her limbs soft.

Ray heard nothing.

The pollen toxin had fully invaded his brain. The only thing left in his eyes was the woman in his arms. He lowered his head and nuzzled blindly into the crook of her neck; the rough scrape of his jaw left her skin flushed red.

"So sweet..."

A hoarse murmur escaped his throat. One large hand slid down the curve of her waist and snuck its way between her thighs.

May’s legs gave out. She nearly slid to the floor, only to be held upright by the hard press of his body against the wall.

This pollen is way too strong! Am I actually about to get taken right here, right now?

"Ray, wake up! This is hardly the time for this!"

His hands never stopped. The other one had already found the edge of the stocking on her thigh and yanked downward.

"White... take it off..." he mumbled, eyes locked on the dazzling expanse of pale skin.

Just as those burning lips were about to claim hers, May squeezed her eyes shut in pure despair.

At the critical second—

Boom!

The wall of the presidential suite was smashed open from the outside. Bricks and concrete dust flew. Through the smoke, several tall figures charged in.

"Fuck! What the hell is going on in here?!"

Mitch, gun in hand, kicked aside a chunk of rubble, killing intent written all over his face. He had just finished clearing a few lesser infected outside and had rushed over in a panic, terrified something had happened to the girl.

Then he looked up.

He froze solid. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Ray had May pinned to the wall. Her clothes were half-torn. One white stocking had been pulled halfway down and hung loose around the bend of her knee. Ray’s hand was still locked on her thigh. The position could not have been more compromising.

"What the..."

Mitch’s mind blanked with a loud buzz. "Boss... are you saving her or climbing on top of her?"

Ace, who had been idly spinning a grenade, suddenly lost every trace of his usual smile. The warmth drained from those bright eyes until they turned ice-cold.

"Looks like Boss has recovered quite well."

His voice was cool; the grenade in his hand creaked under the pressure of his grip.

Jack, machine gun still on his shoulder, stood with his mouth open wide enough to fit an egg. Even the usual flush on his cheeks was forgotten. After a long moment, he managed only:

"Uhm... did we come at a bad time?"

The air was thick enough to wring water from.

Mitch stared at the living, breathing scene in the corner as if he had seen a ghost. Ray’s large body had almost completely swallowed May. The tight flight-attendant uniform was torn open across most of her torso, revealing vast stretches of eye-catching white. Even more fatal was the white stocking still half-hanging at the bend of her knee—caught between falling and staying. Ray’s bronzed hand remained clamped firmly on the soft inner side of her thigh.

The collective weight of their stares, combined with the toxin finally beginning to fade, slammed Ray’s rational mind back into place like a physical blow.

His body locked rigid. The blood-red haze in his eyes thinned. The instant reason returned, the first things he registered were the soft, warm body in his arms... and the shockingly smooth texture under his own hand.

Ray’s face turned the color of pig liver at a speed visible to the naked eye, then flushed so deep it looked ready to bleed.

It’s over.

Completely over.

My entire reputation is fucking ruined.

"Recovered nicely. Looks like you don’t need our help anymore."

Ace’s cool voice drifted over. He leaned against the broken wall.

Alex poked his head out from behind Jack, eyes making a leisurely circuit of the torn stockings still clinging to May’s legs.

"Look at this... Boss was probably trying to check whether May was injured somewhere. Ha!"

That single remark stabbed straight into Ray’s heart.

He jerked back as if his backside had been set on fire, releasing May and leaping a full step away. Then, under the heavy, meaningful gazes of everyone present, he snatched a bedsheet from the nearby bed and wrapped the still-dazed girl from head to toe like a spring onion—leaving only her small head exposed.

Only after finishing that did he finally reclaim a scrap of his usual authority as leader. He faced the brothers standing in various postures at the doorway.

"What are you staring at?! Turn your fucking eyes away!"

He straightened his spine, trying to cover the guilt with pure volume.

"That Skinwalker Demon bastard releases poison! I was checking whether she was injured! You hear me?!"

Even he could feel his face burning as the words left his mouth.

Checking what exactly?

How could I have possibly injured myself between my legs???

"Ohhh—" Alex dragged the syllable out, as if sudden enlightenment had struck. "So it was wound-checking."

Theo adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose and strolled in at an unhurried pace. He didn’t look at Ray. Instead, he pulled out a portable heart-rate monitor and swept it in Ray’s direction.

"Boss’s current heart rate: 180. Adrenaline levels three times above normal. Blood flow accelerated."

He recited the data calmly, then lifted his eyes to the iron-blue face across from him. The gaze behind the lenses was full of meaning.

"Looks like the treatment was extremely... thorough."

He bit down hard on the word "thorough."

Ray felt this was the most humiliating moment of his entire life. Right now he only wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it, or simply shoot every single one of these idiots who clearly enjoyed the show far too much.

Just as an internal free-for-all was about to erupt, the girl who had been wrapped into a silkworm finally managed to struggle one hand free of the blanket. In that hand she still clutched a broken length of...

"Um... really, don’t blame him."

Her voice was soft and sticky-sweet, still carrying a faint tremor from the earlier fright. It instantly pulled every pair of eyes toward her. She lifted the half-broken rope and forced herself to start talking nonsense.

"This... this is a piece of rope I found earlier. The hotel felt creepy, so I wanted something to defend myself with..."