49. Brooke
He doesn’t leave my side. As I drift in and out of consciousness, thanks to some pretty awesome painkillers and my own body’s need for rest, he remains in the chair beside my bed. When I wake up with a moan because my ribs are in agony and my head throbs, he’s out of the chair quicker than lightning to find a nurse or a doctor and doesn’t let go of my hand until the pain subsides and I fall into a deep sleep again.
Later that evening, I wake up to a twilight sky and a full moon visible out my hospital window. The drugs are wearing off, but the pain is bearable. The moment I open my eyes, Lev takes my hand. He looks tired.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Like I’ve been run over by a truck that stopped and then backed over me for good measure.”
He gives me a weak smile. He’s hurting, but he’s doing his best to hide it behind one of his stoic expressions. His poker face is on point, but he can’t hide what’s in his eyes. He’s one half in agony, while the other half is burning with rage and a violent need for revenge.
I squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’m going to be okay, Lev.”
“You will. I will make sure of it. No one will ever touch you again.”
I believe him.
I want to sit up but don’t want to upset a cranky couple of ribs. Breathing hurts, let alone moving.
“Here, let me help you.” He helps me sit up and adjusts the pillows behind me. “Is that okay?”
I nod. “Better, thank you.”
His brow furrows. “I’ll kill him.”
I don’t doubt it. “I know.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“Would it matter if I wasn’t?”
“No.”
“Then what I think about it doesn’t really matter.”
“What you think matters, Brooke. It matters to me more than it should.”
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
Surprise flitters across his face.
“I need to feel your lips on mine,” I say.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“He split your lip.”
I remember Vlad’s backhand and the zip of pain as his pinky ring tore through the delicate skin.
I swallow back a sob and force a weak smile. “Don’t make me beg.”
His dark eyes gleam as he bends to brush his lips against mine. The wound stings, but it is nothing compared to how good it feels to be kissed by this man. His kiss is tender. Infinitely gentle. And I’m aware that all I need is this man to make me feel better about this.
His hands cup my face, and he presses his forehead to mine.
He sighs. “Zayka…”
I feel a surge of joy inside my heart as I do every time he calls me by my nickname.
“I will make him pay for what he’s done,” he whispers.
The opening of the door sends Lev bolting upright, and he reaches for the gun in his waistband before I even understand what is happening. But it’s an overreaction. It’s not Vlad and his army of assholes coming to finish me off. It’s only a nurse pushing an ultrasound machine on a cart.
“Good evening, sleepyhead. It’s good to see you looking better.” She is an older woman, somewhere in her fifties, with a kind face and rosy cheeks. “The ultrasound won’t take long.”
What do I need an ultrasound for? I ask.
It’s nothing to worry about. Dr. Cornerstone just wants to see how many weeks along you are.
What do you mean? I ask, confused.
This will check the size of your baby.
Baby? Lev and I both say at the same time.
Yes, youre pregnant, right?
I shake my head. No, Im not.
Then I remember back to the moments before I was kidnapped and how I realized my period was late.
“I mean… I’m not sure.”
The nurse checks her iPad. Well, according to your bloodwork, you are.
Lev and I look at each other. But of course, he’s expressionless, and damn if that doesn’t add to the sudden surge of anticipation tightening in my chest.
“I’m going to need you to lie down a bit, honey,” the nurse says, removing a squirty bottle from the ultrasound cart.
I ease down, but my bruised body screams in protest. I hiss in a breath and notice Lev’s eyebrows slam together, and his jaw tighten.
He steps forward. “Zayka—
I blow out a shaky breath. “I’m okay.”
But he knows it’s a lie. I’m very far from okay.
I grab his hand. “Just before I was taken, I remembered I hadn’t had a period since before the wedding.”
His brows draw together when he realizes what that means. That it could be Wilson’s baby and not his.
His fingers tighten around mine reassuringly. “Whatever happens next, we’ll work it out together.”
I can see it in his eyes. He means every word.
The nurse presses a couple of keys on the ultrasound machine. “Okay, honey, let’s meet your baby.”
I lift up my hospital gown so she can squirt the ultrasound solution onto my skin. It’s cold, and when I recoil, my body protests again. This time, Lev takes my hand and draws it to his lips. The comfort is immediate, and I relax, wondering how much more my life is about to change.
And whose baby I’m carrying.