Chapter 5 Dimitri
DIMITRI
Dimitri peeled the plastic wrap off the breakfast trays that Petrov had left on the dresser in the hallway, careful to get a clean sheet large enough to cover Mattie's bandaged hand from fingertips to wrist.
It had become their morning ritual.
When he returned to the bedroom, Mattie was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing one of his T-shirts because it was easier to pull on and off than anything with buttons. Her hair was tangled from sleep, and there was a pillow crease running down the side of her face.
She was so incredibly beautiful to him that he wanted to kiss every inch of her skin.
The splints made the plastic wrapping awkward, but he was getting better at it, tucking the edges tight so no water could seep through the gauze.
"All done," he said. "Is it too tight? Not tight enough?"
"It's perfect," she said.
He helped her to the bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam curled from behind the curtain.
Then he undressed her, pulling the oversized T-shirt over her head while she raised her good arm to help.
The cotton pants came next, and then they were both naked in the small bathroom, and the intimacy of it hit him the same way it did every morning.
It was a quiet revelation that never quite stopped being new.
They stepped into the shower together.
The water hit his shoulders first, and he angled himself so it would warm Mattie without hitting her injured hand.
She leaned back against his chest, her good hand bracing against the tile wall, and he began washing her the way he always did, starting with her shoulders, then her back and her arms, moving with unhurried care around the wrapped hand.
He tried to approach the task as clinically as he could, mindful of her big and small injuries, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep it that way.
Maybe it was the way she tilted her head back against his shoulder, exposing the line of her throat.
Or the small sound she made when his hands slid over her stomach, not quite a sigh, more like a breath that had been held too long and finally released.
His body responded before his brain could intervene, and he felt his inner heat rising, not because of the water temperature but because he wanted her so much that it hurt.
She noticed.
Not that she could have ignored the hard rod he'd sprouted while they were pressed together in a shower stall barely big enough for one person, let alone two.
"Dimitri." She turned in his arms, her good hand coming up to rest on his chest. "I feel better today." Her eyes were soft and dark and wanting.
"I'm glad."
"I'm not made of glass."
"Your hand is held together by splints and willpower."
"My hand is not what I want you to touch."
The words sent a rush of heat through him so intense that any rational thought drowned in it before it could fully form.
He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her.
Careful, but not gentle. It wasn't one of the comforting kisses he'd been giving her since the attack.
This was deeper, hungrier, and she responded by pressing closer, her good arm snaking around his neck, pulling him in.
He kissed her, his hands going down her body, following the curves and hollows that he memorized each time anew.
She gasped against his lips when his fingers found the right spot, and the sound nearly undid him.
But when she shifted her weight, trying to get closer, her injured hand bumped against his arm, and she winced. It was a small flinch, quickly hidden, but he caught it, and it broke the spell.
Dimitri eased back. "We need to stop."
"We really don't."
"We really do." He pressed his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard, the water cascading over them like a warm curtain. "I'm not going to cause you more pain."
"The pain is manageable."
"The pain is going to get worse if you keep moving like that." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Rain check?"
"You can't rain check in a shower. That's redundant."
He chuckled, and the sound echoed off the wet tiles. "Then consider it a sunshine check. Redeemable as soon as both your hands work."
"That's weeks away. I won't last that long."
"Yes, you will. Think of it as weeks of building anticipation."
She groaned. "We can think of a pose that will keep my hand immobile. There is always the old and trusty missionary, but I can think of several others."
Reaching for the shampoo, he arched a brow. "Did you study the Kama Sutra?"
"No, but I have imagination. I can visualize."
"I bet you can." He began working the shampoo through her hair. "But there will be plenty of time for that when you've healed."
She grimaced. "Assuming we're still alive by then."
He didn't answer that because there was no answer that wouldn't be either a lie or a depressing truth. Instead, he rinsed the shampoo from her hair, soaped up his hands one more time, and finished washing her while trying very hard not to think about what he was doing.
She let him, but the look she gave him said this conversation wasn't over.
Mattie’s timid appearance was a guise meant to fool condescending immortals. She was a fighter, but she was smart about it. She didn't pick fights she couldn't win and went out of her way to steer clear of them, yet she didn't back down when she believed she was right.
They dried off and dressed, Dimitri pulling on his usual work clothes while helping Mattie into a loose shirt and the cotton pants with the elastic waistband. He unwrapped the plastic from her hand and checked the bandage for dampness.
"It's dry," he said. "Hungry?"
"Yes."
"Then let's eat."
They walked out into the hallway where their breakfast waited.
In addition to the trays, Petrov had left two mugs for them.
Coffee for Dimitri, and tea for Mattie. The man might drink enough vodka to pickle his substantial frame, but he was endearingly considerate and thoughtful when it came to Mattie.
Dimitri set up their chairs and finished unwrapping the trays. It was the standard fare of eggs, toast, and sliced fruit, but it was pretty good, and he didn't complain despite it being the same every morning.
He cut Mattie's toast into pieces and set the fork next to her left hand. She'd been practicing with her nondominant hand and had progressed from launching food across the room to only dropping it on the dresser, which was a significant improvement.
As she speared a piece of egg, scoring on the first try, Dimitri ran his tongue along the inside of his upper gums and felt the throb that had started last night.
It was a deep, persistent ache that radiated from his canine teeth through his entire jaw, as if the bones were rearranging themselves from the inside. Which was exactly what was happening.
His canines were loosening. He'd felt it when he brushed his teeth this morning, the subtle give in the root, the way the teeth shifted when he pressed his tongue against them. Within days, maybe less, they would fall out, and in their place, fangs would appear.
The thought sent a mix of dread and fascination through him.
He'd studied the immortals' physiology extensively since arriving on the island.
The fangs were hollow, connected to venom glands in the throat.
The glands were the source of the ache in his neck that had been building for two days now.
It had started as a slight tightening that he hadn't paid attention to, but it had turned into a burning tightness that made swallowing uncomfortable.
Last night, the pain had been bad enough that he'd taken two of Mattie's painkillers after she'd fallen asleep. He needed to stop by the clinic today and get a fresh supply, ostensibly for her. Hopefully, no one would question a request for analgesic medication for a woman with a crushed hand.
The real problem wasn't the pain, though. He could manage it.
The real problem was hiding the transformation.
If Losham or any of the soldiers saw him with missing canines, they would know immediately what was happening.
Immortals on this island transitioned at puberty through the venom bite, and every one of them had gone through the process of loosening canines, then living with the gap for a few days after they had actually fallen out, and finally, the emergence of fangs.
It was as recognizable to an immortal as a growth spurt was to a human.
He would need to keep his mouth closed around everyone but Mattie and Petrov. No broad smiles, no yawning, no eating in front of anyone else. Perhaps he should stay in his and Mattie's room, claiming he was sick. After all, he was supposed to be human, and humans got sick from time to time.
That would buy him a few days, and it might be enough, or it might not. He needed to ask Dave if the rapid healing also meant rapidly growing fangs and venom glands.
"Dimitri?"
He blinked. Mattie was watching him with a smile. "Where have you gone? You seemed miles away. Was it somewhere nice?"
He was glad that her sense of humor was back.
"I was just thinking."
"About Dave and their proposal?"
"Among other things." He took a sip of his coffee. "How's the hand this morning?"
She flexed the fingers of her injured hand just enough to test if she could, and winced. "About the same. The pills help, but they wear off too quickly."
"I'll stop by the clinic and get more. I took two of yours during the night."
Her eyes widened. "Why?"
"My throat hurts. It's the venom glands. Also, my canines are getting loose."
"Oh." She set her mug down and picked up a piece of toast, but she didn't eat it. She was pressing her thumb into the soft center, leaving little dents in the bread, and staring at it the way she did when her mind was somewhere else.
"What's going on?" Dimitri asked. "And don't say nothing, because you've been poking holes in that toast for two minutes and you haven't eaten any of it."