Chapter 19
Nikolai
D ark circles form under her eyes while her eyelashes flutter as she lies on the couch, sleeping. She thinks I don’t notice her extended time in the bathrooms. As if I can’t see her bloodshot eyes from her constant coughing she hides behind running water.
Kneeling over her, I lightly caress her brown cheeks that have lost their color these last two days. I’m slowly losing her, I feel it. There have been no witty remarks, no wheels spinning on an escape plan. She hasn’t been interested in trash TV either.
She looks fragile.
Breakable.
“Your lies end today, Malyshka.”
Reaching down, I scoop her in my arms and walk us to our room. Using my shadows, I pull the covers back from her side of the bed and place her under the covers. When I get to my side of the bed, I grab my phone and shoot out a text.
Me
How long has my wife been sick?
Roman
Never.
I huff. This isn’t an all-of-a-sudden illness, she’s been suffering with this for a while. How long? Well, that’s yet to be discovered.
Me
Bullshit
Roman
Where the fuck are you keeping my sister so I can come get her?
Me
Fuck you. She’s my wife. I’ll take care of her.
I block his number and toss my phone toward the end of the bed. If he thinks he’s going to have the last word, he’s fucking delusional. Where the fuck are you keeping my sister so I can come get her? And take her the fuck where? The only place she will ever be is next to me.
Dropping my head in my hands, I don’t miss how he asked for her location. The day he thinks he can take her from me will be the day I shatter this world in ash and shadows.
Turning to face Aspen, my eyes focus on the soft rise and fall of her chest. My shadows slowly and carefully reach for her. I guess she’s been telling the truth this entire time. Unconsciously, they do move towards her.
A small smile plays on my lips.
They must be as anxious as I am.
“What are you hiding that even your brother doesn’t know you’re sick?”
I wield a shadow tendril, it grabs my phone and brings it back to me. I dial the number I know will give me the answers that I need.
When she answers, I tell her, “get here within an hour.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’m buzzing Dr. Sullivan in. “Mr. Volkov, is everything ok? It’s almost midnight.”
“No,” I say, ushering her to my bedroom. “Aspen is sick. She won’t admit it, but I know there’s something wrong.”
“Wrong how?” She walks over to Aspen’s side, placing her medical bag on the ground.
“She’s been rubbing her chest, and she has shortness of breath every now and then.” I let out a sharp breath. “Lately she’s been having a bad cough that makes her eyes bloodshot.”
“For how long?” she asks while examining Aspen. Dr. Sullivan pulls out her stethoscope, placing the buds in her ears before she starts to listen to Aspen’s heart.
“I noticed it after the wedding. At first, she would say it’s acid reflux or indigestion. That didn’t sit right with me.” I go stand by her side, peering down at Aspen.
There’s a long beat of silence as Dr. Sullivan listens to her chest. My heartbeat feels like the thumping is in my ears as I wait.
She exhales a long breath. “I think she has water in her lungs. Her heart rate is dangerously elevated.” The look on Dr. Sullivan’s face is grim. “We need to get her to the hospital bay now.”
Grabbing Aspen, along with the blanket covering her, I rush to my private elevator with Dr. Sullivan on my heels. When we get to the garage, I run to my SUV. Placing Aspen in the back seat with the doc, I waste no time getting behind the wheel, pressing the gas pedal to the floor.
Hitting a few buttons on my dashboard screen, I make a call.
“Niko—”
“I need the hospital bay ready by the time I arrive.” I cut the corner hard as I drive up the highway ramp.
“Done.”
I disconnect the call.
Chancing a look into the rearview mirror, I see Dr. Sullivan cradling Aspen’s head in her lap with her forefinger pressed against her pulse point on her neck.
I press the pedal down harder.
When we arrive at the compound, I rush Aspen to the family’s hospital bay where a full staff awaits us.
“Please, Mr. Volkov, place her on the gurney,” a male nurse says and I do, gripping Aspen’s hand.
“Mr. Volkov, wait here for a moment. I’ll further evaluate her, run some tests and I’ll come back in a few moments.”
If she thinks I’m letting go of my wife’s hand or letting them move her out of my sight, they better start praying to their god because they will be seeing whoever it is, fairly soon.
“I’m going with you.” I push past Dr. Sullivan and walk alongside Aspen’s gurney. “I’m staying with my fucking wife. ”
“Mr. Volkov, we can’t do our jobs if you’re here.”
“Deal with it.” I grip the gurney’s guardrail. “Not once have you questioned why she hasn’t awakened during this entire commotion, and you want me to trust my wife with you?”
“I told you this was grave.” Dr. Sullivan tries to placate me by placing her hand on my forearm.
“You told me shit!” My voice booms in the corridor. My shadows release from me and encapsulate the doctor, strangling her. They’ll have to pry my hands off her before I ever let her go. That’s if she can break through my hold first.
“Son,” my father’s voice cuts in. “Son, I understand. But, please let them do their job.” His face is a mix of worry, confusion and fear. “Do this for Aspen.”
“I can’t. She needs me.”
“I know she does but you have to let Dr. Sullivan do her job.”
She gasps for air once my shadows retreat into me.
“What if—what if she doesn’t come back,” my voice cracks, my chest tightening. “I can’t lose her. I can’t do it again.”
My father embraces me, removing my hands from hers.
“I know, son. You won’t.”
***
“Mrs. Volkov has Stage D Heart Failure with Severe Pulmonary Edema. Her cardiomyopathy has progressed significantly.” Dr. Sullivan explains, rubbing at her bruised neck.
I’ve been waiting outside Aspen’s room for over two hours. Restless. It took my father pointing it out for me to notice I’ve been pacing the halls barefoot. I forgot my shoes in my rush to get Aspen here. It didn’t seem important at the time.
Still doesn’t.
“It’s pretty advanced. She has less than six months to live. After that, we need to consider palliative care,” she finishes.
“Six months? Palliative Care? What the fuck are you talking about? My wife is not dying.” I stand to tower over her, my father uses his shadows to block my advances.
“Calm down Niko. Dr. Sullivan, is there nothing else you can do?”
“There are experimental procedures that can slow the progression. There is one procedure that has cured a small percentage of cases. It’s rare.”
Hope blossoms in my chest. “I want that procedure.”
“We need Mrs. Volkov’s consent—”
“Fuck that, I consent.”
She hesitates. “You need to mate her and complete the bond first.”
“Well, they’ve already mated and they can bond when she wakes.”
I run my hand over my face. “We didn’t mate.”
“What?” My father asks suspiciously.
My jaw tightens. “We did but we didn’t. She wasn’t ready and I didn’t push her.”
“Then we can’t use that procedure. Not without her consent.”
Fuck!
“What we can do for now,” she continues. “is use your blood to ease the fluid in her lungs. It’s a temporary fix but it will make her more comfortable.”
“I’ll do it. Let’s start right now.”
She nods and heads out of the room .
“Niko, what do you mean you didn’t mate with your wife?” He brings my focus back to him.
“She wasn’t comfortable.”
He sighs. “There’s no use of me being upset right now. But we will talk about this later.”
One bag of vampire blood equates to three human blood bags. Most vampire blood is more potent than human blood. Meaning, it works faster to increase red blood cells and heals its host quicker.
I gave Aspen two of my blood bags and I watch them connect my blood to the slow drip attached to her IV. It should take four hours before she has all of my blood in her system. From there, she should wake up between one and five days.
I’m wishing for the former.
I drink a blood tonic to replenish what I gave to Aspen.
Our human servants donate their blood in exchange for money.
My family stopped feeding from human’s direct artery once this option became available.
Feedings on a person were too intimate. It can be an aphrodisiac, however, blood is needed in our diet to sustain our strength.
If you’re not careful, you could create a Ravenger.
It’s when you drain your vessel too close to death and you leave some of your venom in them.
They become vampires, but not really. They become ravenous with bloodlust, they burn in the daylight and they have an ash-like skin color with nails and teeth that are razor-sharp.
Direct feedings were banned because of the growing epidemic of Ravengers back in the early eighth century. Judging by the growing human trafficking with many showing up in cargo containers and ships, another Ravenger epidemic may be on the way.
I clear my mind from that to turn my focus back on Aspen.
She lies there in her hospital checkered print gown, in her hospital bed with an oxygen mask covering most of her face.
There’s tubes and machine wires all over her chest and stomach.
She doesn’t look like herself, she doesn’t feel like herself.
The only thing that is undeniably her is her scent.
Vanilla and jasmine.
***
Aspen didn’t wake on day one or day two.
On day three, the only sound in the room is her heart monitor. The chirping and the up and down lines on the screen are the only things that let me know she’s still alive. That she’s still here with me, fighting.
It’s day five and I rest my head on her hand. “I miss you.” I whisper to deaf ears. “With all the sweets you eat, you should have been diabetic. At least with that, I can control it. I can control how much cake and juice you drink and eat. Aspen, I can’t fight against something terminal.”
A tear falls from my eye and drops to her hand.
“You can’t leave me, Malyshka. Not now, not ever.”
On day six, I watch from the seat beside Aspen’s bed, the sun slowly rising through the window on the side of us. Her head shifts and I perk up.
“Malyshka?” My voice is hoarse from lack of use. “Aspen, wake up baby. Let me see those fierce brown eyes of yours.”
She groans softly. I rub her head, her hair has grown so much since we gotten married.
Her eyes flutter open.
“Malyshka,” I croak out.
“Nikolai.” Her voice sounds heavy and groggy. “Thirsty.”
Relief crashes into me so violently I have to hold the wall above her head to steady myself.
“Hold on baby.”
Six days. Six fucking days I had to wonder if each breath would be her last and now, she’s finally awake.
I force my trembling hands steady as I bring a cup of cool water with a straw and place it against her lips that I kept moisturized. “Here, drink.”
After she’s taken a few sips, she asks, “where am I?”
I wipe the tears before she can see. “In our family’s hospital bay.” I place the cup back down on her side stand. I want to pull her into my arms, kiss her until she understands how afraid I was at the thought of losing her.
She tries to sit up. I adjust the pillows behind her. “What?”
“Your heart,” I can’t bring myself finish the sentence because my throat clogs. I swallow, forcing the lump down. “Why didn’t you tell me, Aspen?”
Her eyes try to focus on mine. “Tell you what?”
“That you were dying all this time. We could have—”
She snorts. “Why would I tell you?”
I rear back like her words slapped me. “Because I’m your husband.” I focus on my breathing. This is not the time for me to be angry.
“Forced husband.” She’s sitting up fully now, alert and ready for a fight. “Or did you forget that part?”
I rub my temple. I know what this is. Fighting is a defense mechanism for her. I’m getting too close, too personal, too intimate, and the only way to remove me is to push me out. Well, that’s not happening today.
Not ever.
“This is serious. You have to tell your family, me,” I point to myself. “Stuff like this. How long were you going to hide this from me?”
“You’re not my family,” she seethes.
I huff out a breathless laugh. “Right. Well, Roman is and he has no fucking clue!”
Fuck.
I didn’t mean to yell.
“He doesn’t need to. He and my family are busy with heavier things at the moment. His attention is needed elsewhere.”
“What other family members do you have, Aspen?” My eyes turn into slits and my brows furrow. Her parents died, she and Roman are orphans. What other family does she have?
“Friends are family to me,” she waves me off. I don’t believe one fucking word she’s saying. I can’t say if I ever will.
“Well guess fucking what, you have my full fucking attention now so tell me everything about you from start to finish or I swear to—”
“Why,” she snaps back, her chest heaving.
“Because you’re my fucking wife, Aspen!”
“For a year. And that’s if I don’t find a way out of your clutches. Don’t confuse my compliance with complacency. I will leave you the first chance I get Nikolai. You can bet on that!”
I lean over her until we are eye to eye, nose to nose. “Listen to me very closely. This was never going to be a year, Malyshka. This was always going to be forever.”
“You will not tie me to you,” she sneers.
There she fucking is.
“Watch me.” Cuffing her face, I pierce her with a vicious kiss.
Consider my promise sealed.