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A flush of heat burnt through my body, and the headache I thought I had finally gotten rid of throbbed. A reminder that I was no princess and he was no prince charming. Pushing my arms beneath me to sit up, I felt a tug in the crook of my left arm. Peeking underneath the gray sheet, my eyes widened when I realized I was hooked up to an IV, the bag of fluid hanging above me from a dark cherry headboard.
“You’re awake,” I jumped as his voice filled the dim room, squinting to see him sitting in a chair only a foot from me. How had I missed him?
My mouth was incredibly dry. I peeled my lips apart and croaked, “what happened?”
He sat forward, looking more disheveled than I had seen him since I’d arrived. His sleeves were rolled up and his top three buttons were unbuttoned, his curly hair falling on both sides. For the first time, it wasn’t slicked back. His features were less severe and my eyes wandered to that hint of skin on his muscled chest. Had he slept there last night?
“You fainted.”
I reached toward my arm but he was too quick, grabbing my sore wrist in mid-air, his fingers gripping the raw skin. I hissed and he dropped it immediately before he shook his head, a gentle warning that I shouldn’t try to remove the needle. I kept his eye contact before relenting, letting my hand drop back onto the soft sheets.
“How are you feeling?” His eyebrows furrowed slightly before his fingers ripped through his messy hair. If I didn’t know he was a murderer and a kidnapper, I would think he was actually concerned. He was rather convincing.
I took inventory of my body. The headache was back in full force. My limbs felt like lead and I would have killed for some chapstick. The hunger cramps I was ignoring before were back— this time with a vengeance.
“I’m fine.”
His jaw clenched, his gaze weighing heavy on my face. I felt naked, like he was flaying me open and reading everything I tried desperately to hide from him. Of course I wasn’t fine. I felt like shit, partly because of my own pride and refusal to eat the food that looked surprisingly good, partly because I’d been slammed into the side of a van, jostled around, and held captive in a damn underground cell. I was pissed, finding myself in a situation I couldn’t fight my way out of. And I was confused. I was confused as to how I could sit across from the man at the root of all the rest of my problems and still enjoy the way his face contorted in concern for me.
“Darya,” my name rolled off his tongue slowly. “Cariño.” Reaching forward, he pressed his hand against my cheek. I pulled away slightly but stopped when his eyes darkened. “You’re not fine.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He caressed my cheek. There was a vulnerability to the air, like he was extending some kind of olive branch. His fingers were soft and hot. “This isn’t about you, it never was.”
A painful lump formed in my throat and I tried to swallow it back. His other hand lifted and pressed against the other cheek, until his hands held me firm and still while his eyes studied me. I burned beneath his heat and it felt good.
“Then let me go,” I whispered.
He clenched his jaw and shook his head. It was a shot in the dark.
When the first tear spilled over, he brushed it away with his thumb. “I’m not going to hurt you, baby.”
I searched his eyes, looking deeper than I had dared to before. They were deep-set with thick lashes that swept across his dark skin with every blink. The mahogany color sparkled, even in the dim light of the room. My cheeks flared beneath his fingers when I realized I’d been staring too long, losing myself in his sincerity.
Did I believe that he wasn’t going to hurt me? He hadn’t raised his fist to me. Not once had he hurt me the way I had seen him do so easily with others.
“I don’t believe you,” I whispered.
He nodded. “You have no reason to, but I won’t stand for your suffering anymore.”
I blinked up at him. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt me physically— but I think his gentleness scared me more.
Another tear slipped out and his fingers tightened. “Come here,” he whispered.
He dipped a hand behind my back and pulled me onto his lap, pressing my head down tenderly on his shoulder. Our chests crushed against each other and my eyes fluttered closed from the contact.
I should have hated him. I should have recoiled at his touch. I should have pushed off him and beat at his chest with my fists. I should have cursed myself for shedding the tears I swore I would never let him see. But, his warmth was so unexpected. How in the hell did he know that this was all I wanted— understanding, support, tenderness?
I’d wanted it all my life and here it was, at this moment, from Yuri of all people.
Once the first sob exploded out of my chest, they came too quickly to stop. They rocked through me, my tears soaking through his white shirt. I felt his head turn and his lips brushed across my ear. “I’m here.”
His arms wrapped around me like I was the most precious thing in the world to him and for one second, I needed to feel that way. Like I mattered to someone, like my pain was felt by someone.
If only it wasn’t my fucking kidnapper.
I pushed away from him. “What’s wrong with me?” My voice squeaked, my eyes completely glazed over.
