Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
VIKTOR
I wake knowing I’m not alone.
There’s breath near my ribs. Jonah’s hands are on me before I’ve even opened my eyes. His fingers press lightly as he adjusts the tape just beneath the bandage. I don’t move, tracking the vibration of his pulse against my side. He’s nervous. I can feel it through his fingertips.
“Hold there,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “This part might sting.”
His voice catches on the last word. I let my eyes open.
Jonah’s bent over me, close enough that I can see the faint crease between his brows.
His knuckles graze my skin again. Gauze is laid out in straight rows on the bedside table.
His head is down, his breath warm against my bare side.
He peels a loose corner of tape. The sting cuts sharp.
A small sound leaves me before I can stop it.
His head snaps up. His eyes widen. “Oh God. You’re awake. Sorry. I thought you were still sleeping. I wasn’t touching anything I shouldn’t—”
“Anything you shouldn’t?” I raise a brow, my voice still rough with sleep.
“Yes. Yeah… it lifted on the edge, so I wanted to check if everything was okay. But then you woke up. Anyway, you still look pale. Let me get you something to drink.”
He keeps on talking while he rushes over to the table. “There’s water. I brought it from the bathroom, because you might wake thirsty. I didn’t know when you’d wake, so I… guessed—” He reaches for the glass, his palms shaking.
“Bring it here.”
I take the cup and drink. It feels like heaven. Jonah watches my throat move while I swallow, his gaze dropping when he notices me tracking him. He clears his throat fast and looks away.
“You’re drinking too fast. You need to take small sips.”
When my head lolls to the side, he steadies the glass.
His palm supports my cheek, guiding the rim back where he wants it.
He’s handling me like glass, unaware that I’m already the one holding the leash.
He has no idea how close to danger he is, touching me with that much care.
I watch the way his pulse thrashes against his skin.
I could make his life a nightmare from this bed, breaking his spirit until he begs the guards to let him out.
Instead, I choose the indulgence of his heat.
“Do you need more medicine?” Jonah hesitates, fingers hovering over the tray. “Or… just tell me. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You get nervous when you’re close. I like it.”
His eyes flick to my mouth, then away as he busies himself with the medical bag. This time he doesn’t ask. He just moves, peeling the tape back, his gaze fixed on his work.
“Tell me if it pulls,” he murmurs. His fingers pause as they press lightly along the edge of the dressing. My breath shifts despite myself. His thumb stills. “Does that hurt?”
“Continue.”
He lifts the blanket from my hip, air hitting my skin. He’s close enough now that I feel the heat from his chest. His fingers skim the bruise near my ribs, making my body tighten. He leans in, breath warm on my skin. I can feel the fear in him.
Jonah looks up. My thoughts must be plain on my face, but he doesn’t flinch. His fingers tremble against my skin as he wipes away the last of the dried blood. “That’s… a bear?” His eyes catch on the tattoo beside the wound. “Of course it is.”
The bear sits along my ribs, head down, teeth bared. He hesitates, hand hovering. “What does it mean? I just—it’s hard to miss.”
“Family. Territory.”
His fingers hover near it. “Can I…?”
“You already are.”
“I…yes.” His hand moves in, the tip of a finger tracing the outline of the bear’s jaw. His touch is light, like he thinks he might wake something under the skin.
“It suits you,” he murmurs. “Big. Bad. Bites.”
The last word comes out softer. He hears it too. “I mean—” He stops, then shakes his head. “Nothing.”
I retrace the line his finger left with my thumb. The warmth lingers where his finger was. Dropping his eyes to the movement, his pupils widen. His lips part, just enough for me to see the slick edge of his teeth.
“Right. Next step. I need to put a fresh pad on. The stitching looks okay.”
I don’t look at the wound. I keep my eyes on his face because I don’t want to miss the way it changes. My shy nurse is interesting. My body agrees.
He presses the fresh pad down. His fingers drift higher than they need to, close to the edge of my hip, then lower while securing the tape. His hand brushes the inside of my thigh as he smooths the last strip. The touch acts as a trigger. My cock swells under the blanket in one heavy rush.
Jonah doesn’t notice at first. His lips are parted and he’s talking because silence scares him. “Okay. That’s better. No bleeding. You probably tore it a bit yesterday when you, um, yeah.” He gives a quick, nervous laugh at his own joke.
The blanket has shifted. The outline is obvious now. He freezes, his fingers curling into the sheets.
“Oh.” His throat works, but his eyes linger on the shape. He swallows. “That’s… normal. It doesn’t mean anything.”
His hand is still on my thigh, and his fingers flex. The movement hits me like a claim.
I keep my eyes on his hand. “You’re sure?”
His eyes flick up, then drop again. “I mean… yeah. Adrenaline. Proximity. Medical touch. That’s normal.”
“Jonah. You’re still touching me.”
He stares. “I was—” He swallows. “You shifted.”
He doesn’t pull away, fingers staying on my skin. He’s trying to talk himself out of what his body is doing, digging himself deeper with every word.
“This happens in hospitals.” He gives a nervous laugh. “I want you to live, remember?”
I nod, watching him. His hand tightens on my thigh. The pressure sends a line of sensation up my spine. He’s got my cock throbbing under the blanket. He’s scared, but he won’t let go.
“You talk a lot for someone who isn’t affected.”
He shakes his head and keeps talking. “I just don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage. Or that I’m—” He cuts himself off, swallows. “Enjoying this. I’m not. Obviously. That would be weird. You’re my… patient. Sort of. And you’re terrifying. So. My body’s just confused.”
He shifts as he says it, bringing his hip closer. The blanket tightens over me, leaving nothing to the imagination. At the same time, his own body betrays him. Something firm brushes my knee through the fabric of his pants.
“Jonah. I can feel your confusion. And you’re shaking so sweetly.”
“I’m not.” But the answer comes too fast.
His fingers curl, grip tightening like he’s bracing himself. Neither of us moves. He realizes it a beat later, jerking his hand back like he’s burned.
“I have to pull the blanket up.” The words tumble out. “So you don’t get cold. And so I stop… seeing things.”
He reaches for the edge and I let him. When the fabric drags over my cock, a sound tears out of me. The pain is a sharp, white line, but I catch the flash of fear in Jonah's eyes and the sting becomes a secondary thought to the hunt.
Jonah flinches, his hands snatching back in a panic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He swallows. “I’ll give you space. You probably want me to go.”
He starts to push off the bed. Wrong direction.
“Come here.”
He freezes. “What do you want me to do?”
I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. “Here.” I lift my hand and curl two fingers.
He moves before he has time to stop himself, stepping back to the bed, close enough that I feel him there. He hesitates at the edge, hands tight at his sides. I catch the front of his sweatshirt and pull.
“What are you… what are you doing?”
“Putting you where I can see you.”
His knees hit the mattress and a broken sound leaves him as he lands against me. One hand braces on my chest near the bandage. The other presses into the blanket over my stomach.
“Relax.”
He shakes his head. His breath runs ahead of him.
I lean back and pull him with me, taking his weight until his body settles against mine.
I don't have the strength to force him, so I use the weight of my silence to pull him in, letting the air in the room do the work for me.
I feel his cock strain inside his sweats. “Are you hard for me, malysh?”
He stills. “I… no. I mean… maybe. Oh god. I didn’t mean to react like that.”
I pull him closer until his thigh presses hot against mine. “You are. And you’re already following my lead.”
My hand slides from his leg to his waist. My thumb follows the path over my chest where he touched the tattoo. His breath slips.
“Lie to me once, Jonah, and you won’t like how fast I correct it.”
His body shivers. I can feel the weight of his heart against my ribs, a frantic, rhythmic pulse like a trapped muscle hitting a wall.
“I don’t know how close you want me,” he whispers.
I tilt my head until his hair brushes my jaw. “This close.”
Fear crosses his face. He stays. His hands settle beside my thigh. His weight sinks into me. “I shouldn’t,” he says, but he does not move. My wound burns. My cock stays hard, and his does too, trapped against my side. He looks at me like a man who knows he should move and refuses.
When you wake like this tomorrow, malysh, I will take what your body keeps giving me.