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Iam floating on an endless bed of clouds. The feeling of security wraps around me like a cozy winter blanket. Shielding and protecting me from the outside world. It’s nice here. In this world of make-believe where everything feels safe. It’s a ruse. I’ve never felt secure. Not since I learned who my family truly was and the lengths they would go to in order to stay in power.
My eyes are heavy. Concrete bricks that refuse to budge even as a low murmur of voices penetrate my haze. I feel hands on my skin, prodding at my side. It hurts like hell, a stinging burn igniting the fire within my veins. I scream, flailing blindly. Someone grunts when my foot connects with solid matter and the sound of shattering glass fills my ears.
“Fucking hell,” a man grunts, his voice distorted as if he was speaking underwater. Strong hands grab at me, holding me down. “Get the fucking doctor.”
I scream again as the powerful hands pin me down to the soft surface beneath me. Wisps of sandalwood and lime wash over me, teasing my senses. I know that scent, but I can’t place it. Not with my brain in overdrive. I gasp as the sound of clinking metal fills the surrounding air.
No, I can’t die this way.
I won’t.
Thrashing wildly against my captor, images of my family’s slaughter flash through my mind, unbidden. There were things I never wanted to be a part of. I’d lost a large amount of respect for my parents and grandfather when I’d learned their secrets—but they were still my family.
They were all I had after Ada’s death.
Now I am all alone.
“Enough, Vanya,” a harsh voice roars above my screams. It is infused with so much dominance that my body freezes without my control. My eyes shoot open to meet the dark gaze of an all too familiar man. He’s inches from my face, a hand around my throat. It’s not squeezing, just keeping me in place. My hands wrap around his wrist, nails digging into the skin.
Someone shuffles behind him, and my gaze is drawn to the movement. I feel like I know him. Like I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place where. He’s busy scowling at me, hunched over, and grabbing his family jewels.
Whoops.
“Are you going to calm down?” the demon above me asks with one brow raised as he stares down at me with his stupidly handsome face. It’s unfair for someone as demonic as him to have such a perfect fucking mug. I squirm against his hold, my nails digging further into the skin of his wrist, but he simply tightens his grip on my neck, eyes darkening. That sends a jolt of something hot to my core, desire unfurling deep inside of me.
Well, shit.
I will not be unpacking that reaction anytime soon.
“Boss,” another familiar voice cuts through the room like a warning. My gaze shifts to him. Anton, Adrian’s right-hand man, and my best friend’s former bodyguard. “Doc’s here.”
Adrian’s grip doesn’t lessen. For a moment, we’re caught in each other’s gaze. Then, suddenly, he lets go as if I burned him. He stands, wiping his hand on his suit pants like he was worried he’d caught something.
“Who knew the little mouse was such a fighter,” he sneers, backing up slightly as another gentleman approaches the bed. This one is older, with greying hair. He doesn’t look kind. His face is stern, eyes hard, as he reaches out to grab me. I slap his hand away with a scowl, causing Anton to bark out a laugh.
“She’s definitely got claws.”
The man, who I assume is the one they called Doc, shoots me a glare that can melt the polar ice caps. “I need to check your wound.”
My eyes don’t leave his for several moments. “And you need to check your bedside manners.” I clench my jaw and after a moment, I give him a curt nod to proceed. My gaze finds Adrian and I focus on him as the doctor shifts the sheet that is covering me out of the way. I’m naked beneath the sheet, I can feel it. The doctor only reveals my side, but it is still enough vulnerability to have heat suffusing my cheeks.
Unable to hold his intense gaze, I lower my eyes to watch the doctor, but not before noticing the smirk that traces up the corners of Adrian’s mouth.Asshole. He thinks he won something, but he hasn’t.
“Doesn’t look like you opened any of your stitches during your little tantrum.” He presses two fingers along the wound, and I hiss. Tantrum my ass. If he woke up in a strange room after being shot, he would throw atantrumtoo. Still, not wanting to stir trouble, I remain petulantly silent as the doctor continues to look over my wounds.
“Jonah,” he orders the man who is sulking in the corner. He’s a wiry one, with a long, but rounded face and beady eyes. “Grab my stethoscope and the pills, please.” So, the man I kicked in the balls has a name. Good to know since the death glare he has focused on me could give me third-degree burns.
The doctor turns his attention back to me. “You lost a lot of blood, but luckily the wound was fairly superficial.” I remain still as the surly man listens to my heart and lungs. When it appears that he is satisfied that I am in no danger of dying from those two organs, he places two pill bottles on the table beside the bed.
“Take the antibiotic twice a day with food,” he orders. “The Tramadol as needed for pain. There is only enough in there for a few days. Make sure to keep the area clean and dry. No lifting anything above your head or picking anything up heavier than twenty pounds. At least for the first couple of days.”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
“Keep an eye out for swelling, fever, or redness around the wound,” he turns to tell Adrian. “Contact me immediately if she has any of those signs. It means she has an infection.” Adrian nods at the doctor, his eyes skating back to mine before his attention is stolen away again.
This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here, but I had nowhere else to go. My brain had been foggy with adrenaline and fear.
The doctor turns back to me.
