AllFreeNovel
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A bottle of water.
It’s fancy water, because duh, of course it is. The kind of bougie glass bottle that I always roll my eyes at because who the hellwould pay eleven dollars for a glass of tap with fancy branding that doesn’t fit in any cupholder known to man?
But I won’t turn my nose up at it now. I’m parched. My hands are a blur as I snatch it up and unscrew the cap, tossing it back like I’m shotgunning beer at a frat party. But I miscalculated my thirst with the dryness of my throat. Almost instantly, I’m choking and gagging on the water.
Just as swiftly, Demyen materializes at my side and grabs the bottle from my hands. He cups the back of my head, firmly gripping my hair between his fingers, and waits for me to calm down. Then he tugs my hair just enough to make me tilt my head back, raises the bottle to my lips, and eases a slow trickle of water into my mouth.
I watch his face. He doesn’t seem to be feeling one way or the other, but his own gaze is fixed on my mouth. I feel his fingers flex a little bit in my hair, almost like…
No. He’s not caressing me.
This is just… necessity. Yeah. Necessity. He’s keeping me alive for his own brand of torment.
He pulls the bottle away to give me a chance to swallow. A few drops escape my lips but otherwise, it is easier this time. I feel the droplets splash on my chest and dammit, does that feel good.
Demyen’s eyes flick down to follow their paths as they slowly trickle over my skin. That same look he had in the doorway returns.
Thirsty.
No…hungry.
But instead of doing anything to feed that hunger, he clears his throat and repeats the motions: tilting my head back, easing sips of water into my mouth, letting me swallow.
After a few sips, he lets me go and screws the cap back on. “You look better,” he observes quietly.
“I feel better.”
“Good.” He’s avoiding my eyes, instead focusing on setting the bottle down on the nightstand and wiping the condensation from his palms onto his jeans. I realize in this moment that I haven’t seen him so casually dressed—a tank top, jeans, bare feet. I’ve only ever seen him in immaculately tailored suits.
And his pajamas. But that was definitely a fever dream.
“How’s your stomach feeling?” This time, he does look at me, that same unreadable mask on his face.
I think about it. The water isn’t making me nauseous, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for a full meal. “Pretty good. I think. I don’t know, really.”
“You’ve kept food down so far. Must be a good sign.”
I furrow my brow at him. “You… fed me?”
“I made sure you were fed. Big difference.”
Right. But I’m not about to argue. I have bigger things to deal with, now that I’m able to stay upright. “Where’s Willow? I want to see my daughter.”
Demyen side-eyes me. “She’s fine.”
“I don’t believe you.” I grit my teeth. “Bring me my daughter. Now.”
“No.”
I lean back. I may not be fully recovered or able to take on a guy his size, but hellfire and brimstone can’t keep me from my child. What makes him think he can? “No?”
“No. You’re probably still contagious.”
“You’rehere.”
“I’m also not five years old.”
Damn him. He and his logic can kiss my ass. “I want to see her.”
