"No need," I say, shaking my head slightly against the pillow. "I can handle it."
Silence follows, and I think Vega is done speaking to me. The sheets are cool against my skin, a small comfort as I lie on my side, trying to find a position that doesn't aggravate the dull ache in my lower back.
"How is your back?" Vega suddenly asks. "Let me apply the oil for you."
"No need," I say quickly. "It doesn't hurt anymore."
I feel the person behind me move, and suddenly my lower back is aggressively poked. I suck in a breath of cold air, the pain sharp and immediate.
"Agh!" I hiss, my body arching involuntarily as Vega's finger finds the exact, most tender spot of the bruise.
I twist in a flash, adrenaline spiking. I don't think; I react. In one fluid motion, I lunge across his chest, my hips half-straddling him as I trap his left wrist in a vice grip. My right forearm presses down hard on his collarbone, pinning him to the mattress.
