“Hide him well, Roman, because his life will be the first I claim when she wakes.”
Ignoring Roman’s silent pledge for me to reconsider, I return my focus to Justine. I watch her like I did last night, shocked only twenty-four hours has passed since we met. I don’t know why I’m surprised. The longer you dance with the devil, the longer you remain in hell.
The same can be said for angels.
Chapter Fifteen
Roman holds Dok back when Justine groans approximately an hour later. As her hand shoots up to rub the bump her collision with the floor caused to her right temple, her eyes flutter open. They float around her room before they eventually stop on me. The pained expression on her face claws at my chest in a way I’ve never experienced. I don’t do attachments. Usually, I’m in and out in a matter of hours.
This is different.
Not only is the way she’s looking at me producing a foreign sound from my chest, it also has me expressing emotions I was certain I was born without. I don’t just want to protect her and keep her safe. I want to give back the dignity she lost when she was mauled by a dog. I want to earn her respect without scaring it from her. But even more than that, I want to keep her forever.
An angel doesn’t belong in hell, but they’ve opened their doors once before, so who’s to say they won’t do it again?
Justine breathes nosily out of her nose when I scoot closer to her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
I have the respect of hundreds, and am feared by thousands, but I feel the most powerful I’ve ever felt when she mutters, “I know.”
When I cup her cheeks, a little vein in her neck works overtime. “How are you feeling?”
Not giving her the chance to reply, I brush away the curl covering the bump on her right temple so I can inspect it. She stills when her molten-red locks fall from her shoulders far enough the bite marks she referenced earlier today are exposed, but she knows better than hide them from me.
The skin stretched over the marble-sized lump is faint purple in color; however, it didn’t crack under the pressure. Its flat appearance has me skeptical it’s the sole cause of her unconsciousness. A lagging sleep schedule may also be at play. She looks more tired now than she did last night, which is understandable. Fighting off a man double your size is exhausting no matter how strong your will.
I also know this from experience.
My words are gravelly when I ask, “Does your head hurt?”
Justine takes a moment to comply a response before shaking her head. I don’t need a doctorate in medicine to know a knock to the head isn’t responsible for her delay. She’s speechless because my hands are on her. I like that even more than the way the fear in her eyes subsides the longer I sit across from her, stroking her cheeks.
“I can give you something to take the edge off, if you’d like?”
It doesn’t take her as long to respond this time around. She nods—rather briskly.
Ignoring the cocky bastard inside of me itching to fan his feathers, I hold out my hand palm side up to Dok. He places two of the Xanax tablets he found in the medicine cabinet in Justine’s bathroom into my palm before rejoining Roman by the door. The date on the prescription label states it was filled over two years ago, and the number of pills inside the canister reveals Justine doesn’t use them in day to day life, but something in her eyes tells me she needs more than a stiff drink to see her through this.
“Drink slowly,Ahren,” I instruct when she downs the tablets with half a glass of water. “We don’t want your food coming back up.”
The heaviness on my chest is pushed aside for smugness when she switches her gulps to tiny sips. Once the glass is empty, she hands it back to me. I place it onto the bedside table, stand to my feet, yank the sheets out from under her bottom, then nudge my head to her pillow.
Hearing my silent command, she slips between her sheets without a single protest. Her obedience has me tempted to join her. I would if I didn’t feel the eyes of Roman and Dok on me. They’re eyeballing me like I’m doing one of the many inane thoughts in my head. Justine was assaulted. I should not be having the thoughts I am.
Heat races across Justine’s chest when my wish to touch her becomes too much for me to bear. I drag my finger down her cheek, across her collarbone, and past her budded nipple before I raise my eyes to her face. You have no idea how hard my next set of words are to articulate when I spot the lust gleaming in her eyes. I want to stay, but leaving is the right thing to do. I know better than anyone how one wrong move could fuck everything up. Since that’s the last thing I want, I listen to the silent pleads Roman has been throwing my way the past hour.
My voice is low and dangerous when I say to Justine, “I’ll be right outside your door if you need me.”
I wait for Justine to nod before gesturing for Roman and Dok to leave before me. When the door creaks shut, I drop my eyes to Justine’s chest. The heaviness weighing mine down lightens when I noticed how firm her nipple still is. I love how she responds to my meekest touch, her desires more potent than her fear.
Even spooked, fear will never be her strongest emotion around me.
Need will be.
“Soon,Ahren.Very soon,” I promise before pivoting on my heels and leaving her room, acting ignorant to the disappointed sigh escaping her lips.
If I don’t leave now, I never will, then, not only will Justine be placed on Vladimir’s radar, I’ll triple my fight to bring Sergei before the courts for his crime.
While closing Justine’s door, I seek Dok’s gaze. Like a majority of my men, he reads the command in my eyes without me needing to speak. “From the width and depth of her bump, I’d say it’s a superficial wound. Her eyes were responsive, and she was clearly alert, so I don’t see her having any long-term side effects from her fall.”
