A nervous sweat broke across Ruelle's skin. The chain's hook latched with a soft click. She schooled her expression, and as she pulled herself away, Lucian's eyes followed her.
"The blood on your skirt wasn't yours… was it?" She shook her head at his question. He watched her, as if dissecting her expression, before saying, "Mind if I check?" There was something in his eyes she couldn't quite read.
"Check?" Ruelle repeated, feeling slightly nervous.
She then saw him lower himself onto one knee without breaking his gaze.
A gasp escaped from her lips when his hands slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, his cold fingers touching her ankles. His fingers brushed higher. Slow and careful, as if inspecting for a wound, and her breath faltered.
"Impressive," Lucian murmured, his touch lingering a moment longer before he dropped his hands. "You didn't get hurt."
"I told you..." Ruelle breathed, her eyes turning unfocused. She hadn't expected him to check himself.
