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Chapter 38
Aurora
Sitting on a bed in the infirmary, my eyes keep darting to Misha, who’s unnaturally quiet.
“Misha,” I say to get his attention.
The doctor doesn’t stop cleaning my butchered toes, and it takes a moment before Misha lifts his eyes to mine.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Another couple of seconds pass before he nods, turning his gaze back to the doctor, who’s now busy wrapping a bandage around my foot.
As soon as the doctor is done, he says, “I’ll give you something for the pain, but you’ll be okay. The nails should grow back in six to ten months.”
“Can I go?” I ask to make sure there are no other checks he wants to do on me.
He nods, “Just take it easy for a couple of days. No heavy training.”
“Okay.” I smile at the doctor as I slip off the bed, careful not to put any pressure on my right foot. “Thank you.”
Misha darts forward, and I’m swept up into his arms. “I can walk,” I protest.
“There’s no way that’s happening today,” he mutters as he carries me out of the infirmary.
“Wait, I want to check on Abbie,” I say as I strain against his hold.
Instructor Nikolai carried her out of the infirmary, and I haven’t seen her since.
“Sit the fuck still,” Misha snaps.
My eyes dart to his face, and seeing his angry expression, my eyebrows fly up. “Why are you angry with me? It wasn’t my fault we got taken.”
He lets out a heavy breath as he turns the corner and stalks toward the staircase. “I’m not angry with you. I’m fucking pissed off at what they did to you.”
Oh.
Placing my hand against the side of his neck, I say, “But I’m okay now.
It’s all over.”
He visibly forces himself to calm down, then he mutters, “Abbie’s fine.
I’ll take you to her after you’ve gotten some rest.”
Misha carries me into his suite and straight to his bed, where he gently lays me down.
With a look of warning, he says, “You’ll only get up for toilet breaks.
Understand?”
I pat the space beside me. “Only if you stay with me.” “Of course, I’m staying with you,” he mutters.
I watch as he walks to his closet and changes into a pair of sweatpants.
My eyes latch onto the V that curves from his hips toward the waistband.
Yum.
I think if I pop a couple of painkillers, I’ll be fine enough for sex.
Misha grabs a shirt from the shelf, and as he walks back to the bed, his eyes lock on my face. A second later, he shakes his head. “Get your mind off sex, krasivaya. You’re in no shape for it.”
I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, but a girl can dream.”
Misha starts to undress me, tossing my clothes into the corner of the room. After he’s changed me into his t-shirt, he lies down beside me and pulls me into his arms.
Letting out a deep breath, he murmurs, “Khristos, now my heart can rest.”
He presses kisses all over my face before he pulls back to ask, “How are you holding up?”
I just shrug because I don’t have an answer for his question.
Back in the container, there was a moment when I really believed I would die. The empty feeling washing over me was indescribable.
It’s insane. I’m both relieved and traumatized. I keep telling myself it’s over.
When Misha raises an eyebrow at me, I say, “I’ll be okay. I’m just a little shaken up.”
“Talk to me.” He brings a hand to my face, brushing his fingers over my cheek.
I shrug again before I snuggle into his chest. “I just hated feeling so helpless.”
“I’m sorry, moy malen’kiy olen’,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I tried to get there as quick as I could.”
“I know.” Holding him as tight as I can, I admit, “I was so scared I’d die, and I wouldn’t get to see you again. They were recording the torture, and I’m sure it was to make you watch how they killed me. I hated it.”
Misha takes a couple of deep breaths, then orders, “Look at me.”
I tilt my head back and meet his eyes. There’s so much love in his light blue irises it helps to soothe some of the trauma I’ve been subjected to.
For a moment, he just stares at me, then he says, “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?”
I shake my head, the turbulent emotions caused by the events bubbling in my chest.
“Most people would be hysterical, but not you. You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Misha’s words build me up after the knock I’ve taken.
That’s what I love most about him. He makes me feel strong. He never breaks me down.
“I’m just glad I get to lie here with you,” I say, my tone soft.
There’s a moment’s silence before I ask, “What do you think will happen now that my father has sworn allegiance to the bratva?”
Misha turns onto his side, so we’re face-to-face. “Now we plan our wedding. We have less than three months.”
Oh, right!
My eyes widen a little. “From facing death to walking down the aisle,” I chuckle.
A worried frown forms on his forehead. “Do you still want to get married?”
Closing the distance between us, I press a kiss to his mouth. “Yes. I would’ve liked more time to make the arrangements.”
And I would have loved a proposal.
“I’ll help you plan everything,” Misha offers.
“You better,” I grumble playfully before yawning.
Laying next to Misha, exhaustion sets into my bones, and with Misha’s hand trailing up and down my back, I drift off.
When I wake up, the room is dark.
At first, I think Misha’s asleep, but when I try to sneak out of his arms, they tighten around me.
“Where are you going?” he grumbles. “I’m thirsty.”
“Stay in bed,” he orders before he gets up to bring me a bottle of water. He turns on the light, and my eyes instantly lock on his hard cock, tenting his sweatpants.
I take the bottle from him and tease him. “If you get any harder, you’re going to tear through the fabric.”
He drops down on the bed again, and lying on his back, he glances at his erection. “Your ass was grinding against my dick,” he complains. “You can be glad I didn’t fuck you while you were sleeping.”
Chuckling, I take a sip of water, then set the bottle down on the bedside table. “I won’t mind waking up like that.”
Misha’s eyes snap to mine. “Really?”
I nod as I turn onto my side, snuggling the pillow that smells like my man. “But be warned, I sleep like the dead.”
A grin spreads over his face. “I’ll test that one night when you least expect it. We’ll see how deep you sleep when I’m hammering into your pussy.”
Jesus.
The image of the fantasy has my abdomen clenching and my core flushing with heat.
Reaching out a hand, I tug his sweatpants down, so his cock jumps free. I drink in the sight of his velvet skin, wrapped tightly over the muscle, then trail a finger from the head to the base.
“Make love to me, Misha,” I whisper. “Like you did when you thought you were saying goodbye.”
He pushes his sweatpants all the way off and removes my panties before he crawls over me. The weight of his body pushes mine into the mattress.
Just the way I like it.
Misha’s eyes lock with mine, and seeing how much he loves me makes me feel treasured and safe.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you, moy malen’kiy olen’?”
I nod, and as he pushes his hard length inside me, I say, “Just as much as I love you.”