She was hooked to monitors and she tore off the leads attached to the machines. She had just reached for the IV when Dmitry strode in and stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“You need the medicine,” he told her simply.
She didn’t fight him. Instead she stared up at the big man who had become her heart long before she realized she even had one.
“You live,” she stated, trying not to throw up at the pain in her head.
He nodded as he began to check her bandages. “Because of you.”
She rubbed her hand over her head, wincing when she rubbed over the stitches at her crown. “He did not cut my hair off,” she remarked wonderingly and then she remembered Joseph’s explanation as to why. How she hated him.
“But he did cut you,” Dmitry snarled.
She glanced up at him, alarm tripping through her. “Cutting is the least of what Joseph did to me.”
Dmitry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. It was an awesome sight watching him struggle for control.
“Do not be mad for me, Asinimov. I survived.”
It took him several moments but he nodded. “You live.”
“Because of you.”
He nodded again. “Do you feel like you can walk? The sooner we can get you up and moving the better off you will be. All of you heal at an exceptional rate but the infection from the gunshot has been your biggest struggle.”
“I need the bathroom,” she admitted.
“You have a catheter,” he told her.
“Remove it,” Bone ordered.
He stepped away from her and called out to someone standing outside the door. A slight Hispanic woman walked in. Dmitry spoke softly to her and then turned away. The woman removed Bone’s catheter gently.
When she left, Bone was once again alone with Dmitry. Her heart hurt seeing him, knowing he believed her a liar. But she had discovered something about herself while hanging from Minton’s old, fraying ropes. She had pride and she wouldn’t lower herself to beg for forgiveness from anyone. Ever.
She’d had her own agenda from the start and to apologize for seeing it through was wasted breath.
“The bathroom is through there. I will walk with you,” he relayed calmly.
“I do not need help, Asinimov,” she bit out.
“But you will get it,” he said gruffly.
“You would help a killer?” She was deliberately baiting him. His words about his father being a good man rang in her ears.
“I would help you,” he drawled.
She was too weak to fight him so she let him lead her to the bathroom. Bone took her time, using the restroom and washing her face. She brushed her teeth and thought she might fall on her face had he not opened the door and scooped her into his arm.
“I want to hate you,” she murmured at his neck.
His eyes flinched. “We each have contrasting desires.”
Just that quick she was reminded of how he’d felt against her naked flesh. How he had taken her so high and it had been the only height she’d never feared.
“I will let you heal, kostolomochka,” he informed her. “But once that happens we will have our reckoning.”
“I have no reckoning with you, Asinimov. I killed your father. I killed your mother. Given the contract it would have been me instead of Bullet taking your brother. Are you so sure you’d want to dance with a killer?”
His gaze narrowed on her lips. “Let me tell you what I want, Bone Breaker.” He ran his nose down the side of her face. Then he licked her chin and stared into her eyes. “I want to consume you then rinse my mouth out, so my belly is full but I can no longer taste you. I want to settle between your thighs as I hold your throat in my hand, so my body knows ecstasy but my rage can be appeased at the same time. I want you to suffer but I want to lick your wounds, so that both your pain and pleasure come from me.”
Her mouth went dry and she moistened her lips, feeling a secret thrill when his cheeks went ruddy. There was a bridge of lust between them, but neither knew how to cross it. So the bridge would crumble and they would be left on opposing sides of this thing between them.
“There is one more thing, death bringer.” He lowered his mouth even closer to her, his breath mingling with her own, his intent unclear. “I want you to free me from my hate and let me free you from yours.”
A blaze burned deep in her belly and it had nothing to do with revenge. Bone wanted him like hell on fire, and she affirmed herself to that as she stared into the morning sky of Arequipa days ago. But she would not take his bait—not when she was weak. So instead she sought refuge in the mundane. “How long have I been here?”
“Two weeks.” He smiled wickedly and then placed her on the hospital bed before pulling the covers back up.