28. Can't You Just Hold Me?

So, when Killian came out with the first-aid kit, he was met with a little rabbit completely "marinated" in tears.

Seeing this, he let out a helpless sigh. "Tara the Brave, are you made of water? How can you cry this much?"

He grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, intending to wipe the tears from her face.

But the moment his fingertips were about to touch her cheek, she angrily slapped his hand away.

"My name isn't Tara the Brave!" she declared righteously, her beautiful, drunken eyes hiding none of her fire.

"Oh, then what is it?"

Seeing her like this, Killian suddenly felt like teasing her. He put down the kit and knelt on one knee so he was at eye level with her.

"Little Crybaby?" He smirked, reaching out to poke her small, tear-reddened nose.

"You are!"

"Whoever is crying is the crybaby."

"I don't care, you are!"

Tara roared in frustration, then suddenly and fiercely bit the finger that was poking her nose.

"Sss—"

Killian’s handsome face twisted in pain, and he jerked his hand back.

He laughed out of pure exasperation. "Tara, you—"

Before he could finish, she lunged at him from the sofa, straddling his waist and pinning him to the floor.

In an instant, soft contact and warmth were transmitted across a distance no thicker than a sheet of paper, triggering a scalp-numbing heart-throb.

Killian froze completely, as if struck by lightning, and didn't move an inch.

"Me what!"

Tara straddled his stomach, her soft hands pressing against his chest as she sobbed her grievance. "Why are you so mean?"

As she spoke, her tears fell like plump little pearls, landing one by one on his chest and collarbone.

"I'm in so much pain. Can't you just kiss me and hold me?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she seemed to lose all her strength. Her eyelids drooped listlessly, and she slumped forward onto his chest.

In this moment, the itching, stinging, and restlessness that had tormented him for so long finally vanished.

The air was so quiet that only their mingled breathing and heartbeats could be heard.

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. Glancing to the side, he could only see a section of her pale pink dress spilling out.

Beneath the hem, her white legs were bent defenselessly against his sides.

He couldn't look anymore.

"Tara?"

After a long while, once the fire in his heart had completely subsided, he finally spoke her name.

The only answer was the long, slow sound of breathing by his ear.

Killian’s gaze flickered. He used one hand to push himself up and the other to lightly wrap around her slender waist, lifting her as he walked toward the large bed in the bedroom.

His movements were very gentle, but the moment she was placed on the bed, Tara woke up.

"Where are you going?"

Opening her eyes to see him about to turn away, Tara instinctively and nervously grabbed his hand.

Though her thoughts were still muddled, she knew that the cursed symptoms hadn't ended yet.

If he left, she would definitely die from the pain.

Seeing this, Killian could only coax her helplessly. "I'm going to get the first-aid kit to tend to your wound. Be good, let go first."

Only then did Tara reluctantly release him.

He soon returned with the kit. Before long, cool ointment was being applied bit by bit to the injured area.

Tara hissed from the sharp pain.

"Does it hurt?" Killian looked at her intently.

Tara nodded dizzily. Then, a thought occurred to her, and she whispered, "If you blow on it, it won't hurt anymore."

Killian paused with the cotton swab, staring at her deeply. After a moment, he leaned in slightly and gently blew on her injury.

This angle was strange.

She was propped up on the bed while he was kneeling before her.

In the moment he bowed his head, the act of blowing felt like a kiss, carrying an inexplicable sense of intimacy.

Tara blinked, her cheeks suddenly turning red. she looked away, not daring to meet his eyes.

"All done."

After a moment, Killian stood up.

"Go to sleep. I won't come in."

Having said that, he packed up the kit and turned off the bedroom lights, leaving only a small nightlight before turning toward the living room without looking back.

Tara watched her "antidote" walk away, her cheeks puffing out in frustration.

However, her head—dulled by alcohol—felt heavier and heavier.

She wanted to catch him and bring him back, but she lacked the strength. Finally, she fell back limply, closing her eyes as she sank into the soft bedding.

She thought the night was finally over.

But Killian had underestimated the little rabbit’s capacity for trouble.

About an hour later, a petite body smelling of Begonia flowers quietly approached by the soft glow of the nightlight. Finally, she crouched by the sofa and gently took his hand.

It felt like a cool, refreshing spring flowing over parched, fire-ravaged earth.

Killian, who had been trapped in a nightmare, suddenly woke up. He opened his eyes and looked at the "source" that had driven away all his pain.

The nightlight wasn't bright enough to reach the whole living room.

Tara couldn't see that his eyes were open.

At this moment, she just wanted him to be closer to her—closer and closer.

Unfortunately, just holding hands didn't seem to be enough.

She was still in so much pain and discomfort.

The first time he had an episode, it hadn't been this severe.

Tara didn't know where the problem lay.

But now was not the time to investigate.

"Killian, are you awake?" she whispered as a test.

The only response was even breathing.

Tara pursed her lips, hesitated for a moment, and then couldn't help but quietly get up. She climbed over him and squeezed onto the sofa, pressing herself tightly against him.

At this moment, she was incredibly grateful the sofa was large enough, and that Killian was such a deep sleeper.

She no longer had the energy to worry about whether he would be angry at her boldness tomorrow.

Like a desperate addict, she greedily hugged her "antidote," pressing her head deep against his firm back.

Incredibly clingy,

Killian thought.

[I like you... I like you very, very much.]

The girl's bold declaration from earlier surfaced in his mind.

Before that, Killian had never felt such a passionate affection.

Nor had he ever felt so strongly needed.

Liking, loving.

To him, these things were too luxurious, too foreign.

So much so that he was unwilling to believe they would ever happen to him.

But now...

Slow, steady breathing soon came from behind him.

Killian gently turned over. In the thick darkness, his long fingers landed precisely on her soft cheek.

"Tara," he whispered her name, but received no answer.

His fingers lingered, eventually moving to her dainty, slender waist. With a slight exert of force, he easily pulled her into his arms.

"You were the one who provoked me first."

He rested his chin lightly on her soft head, his voice slow and gentle.

Tara shifted slightly in her deep sleep, then pressed her cheek even tighter against his chest.

Killian curled his lips slightly and raised his hand to stroke her head in a soothing manner. "So, from now on..."

He gave a light laugh. "You're not allowed to regret it."