Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Dimitri
“DRINK,” I DEMAND, pushing the full glass of water towards her.
Savina scowls at me but accepts the drink. I watch as she cradles the cold glass against her cheek but doesn’t take a single sip.
“Drink it. Now, privighetoarea mea mic?,” I say more forcefully this time.
After she fell asleep on the ride back to my apartment, I carried her up the stairs and placed her in my favorite chair.
The moment I pulled my arms away from her, she woke up.
She must have missed my touch enough to wake her up from her slumber; and for some reason, that pleases me immensely.
“Okay, okay,” she says with an eye roll. She takes a few sips, attempting to appease me.
“All of it,” I say, coaxing her by tipping the bottom of the glass. I don’t stop until she’s practically chugging the water. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”
She sputters in the water, almost choking, but manages to keep it down. I smirk at her response. She’s so easily turned on, and it drives me crazy with desire and the need to do it again and again.
When she’s finished with the water, I take the empty glass before she drops it and place it on the counter. “Time for bed.”
Her eyes widen as she stands up slowly. “Are we…are we going to…”
I shake my head vehemently. I almost had a moment of irrationality in the car.
My cock was practically weeping for her tight, little pussy.
And when I pulled her into my lap, I almost said fuck the rules; fuck the contract.
But by sheer willpower alone, I didn’t take her virginity.
I certainly don’t need any more temptation tonight.
I already came in my pants like a horny teenager.
“Don’t worry, Savina. You’re going to sleep in my bed, and I’ll be on the couch.
Besides, I don’t sleep with other people. ”
“Ever?” she questions with a quirked brow.
“Ever,” I confirm. My nightmares sometimes turn into full-blown night terrors, and I would pity any soul caught in my waking dream.
It’s been an ongoing problem ever since I can remember.
I swear the ghosts of the people I have killed over the years haunt me in my sleep, not wanting me to ever find a moment’s peace. And I can’t say I blame them.
“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?” she asks quietly, her big, green, doe eyes looking up at me, completely melting my resolve.
It reminds me of the night I killed the doctor and showed up at her apartment.
I stayed that night until she fell asleep.
I found myself not wanting to leave her side, but I forced myself to eventually.
There’s just something about Savina when she’s vulnerable like this.
I just can’t seem to say no to her. I hesitate but then tell her, “Sure.”
I lead her down the hallway to my bedroom, but I hesitate at the door. I’ve never let anyone else in here, so this is a first as well.
Grunting, I push through the door and walk straight to the bed.
I get on the mattress, pushing my back against the headboard.
Then, I watch as she climbs into the other side of the bed and am surprised when she cuddles next to me, her head gently resting on my stomach.
It takes me a while to relax, but I do eventually.
My hand has a mind of its own as it gently strokes through her long hair, and I can’t help but grin when I hear her sigh contentedly at the action.
“You drank too much,” I chide her.
“Yeah,” she agrees, surprising me. And then she says something I don’t quite understand.
“What?” I ask. I realize she’s not speaking gibberish but trying to mimic my accent and language. She’s trying to speak Romanian. A smile tugs at my lips as I listen to her ramble on, mimicking me. “Is that supposed to be me?” I question.
“Yes,” she says exasperated. “What do you always say again?” She tries overpronouncing it, and it comes out sounding strange.
“Privighetoarea mea mic?,” I tell her, sounding it out slowly for her.
“Privighetoarea mea mic?,” she repeats almost flawlessly. Her brows crease together in the moonlight streaming in through her windows. “What does it mean?” she asks in a whisper.
“It means my little nightingale.”
She sits up quickly and stares at me, her brows creasing further.
She opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again.
“What?!” she finally says, her voice reaching a fever pitch.
She clearly wasn’t expecting that answer.
“All these years I thought you were calling me a moron or a bitch or something terrible,” she cries, throwing her arms up and letting them fall back down on the mattress beside her.
After a while of just staring at the wall and trying to come to terms with the information she just discovered, she finally asks, “So…why little nightingale, of all things?”
Her face turns towards mine, but I don’t dare meet her eyes. I keep mine trained on the ceiling above us. I’ve never told anyone this story, least of all her, and I hope that the alcohol in her system keeps this secret only mine forever. “I heard you singing.”
She pauses for a beat and then asks, “When?”
I’ve heard her sing more than once, unbeknownst to her, so I choose my next words carefully.
“The first time was soon after we had signed the first marriage contract. I climbed the lattice near your bedroom window and snuck inside your room. My plan was to hurt you…or maybe even kill you. Who knows. I was just so angry about the whole thing and trying to find an outlet for my inner turmoil.”
I hear her breath stutter in her lungs as she lies down beside me, her face still turned towards mine.
“But then I heard you singing in the shower. You sounded like one of the nightingales that I would hear singing in the woods when I was a little boy and my mother would take me for walks. So pure and sweet. And I knew in that moment that I couldn’t hurt you.
You were innocent in all of this, just like I was.
We were just kids, trying our best to circumvent the environments that we were born into. ”
She’s quiet then. So quiet that I think she’s fallen asleep. But then she stirs next to me and confesses in a whisper, “I’ve never let anyone hear me sing.”
“Well, then I consider it an honor,” I tell her seriously.
She does truly have a beautiful voice. I’ve heard her numerous times over the years, but I keep that to myself.
Right now isn’t the time to divulge the fact that I have cameras installed in her apartment or the fact that I’ve stalked her over the years.
I can remember several road trips to her all-girls’ school during my summer breaks where I would break into her dorm room and hide in the shadows while she slept.
Watching her sleep always brought me so much peace, and I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s because I always envied her; being able to escape her demons when I, myself, never had that luxury.
“I’m glad you didn’t kill me back then. Because otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to get to know you. The real you,” she says, surprising me.
“I realized pretty early on that I could never truly hurt you, Savina. You’re the only person in this world I never want to hurt,” I confess.
She’s the only one I care about besides my little brother.
I have an extremely short list when it comes to people I would kill for and die for, and she’s definitely at the top.
“I’ll always protect you,” I tell her, and it’s the truth.
I would protect Savina with my life, whether she’s my wife or my brother’s.
I would gladly take a bullet for her or give up my soul in exchange for hers.
My loyalty to Savina knows no bounds. But I keep all of that to myself as well, because I don’t want to worry her or scare her off.
My obsession for her is deep. Deeper than she could ever even imagine.
I can see a glint of tears in Savina’s eyes right before she closes them.
And then she curls up beside me again and rests her head on my stomach.
It doesn’t take long before sleep overtakes her, and I can feel a small puddle of drool forming on one of my favorite shirts.
But I don’t mind. She’s done it before, and I find it cute.
I also love the fact that she feels safe enough with me to fall asleep in my arms.
I run my fingers through her soft hair for a long time, listening to her steady breaths as she sleeps. I count the freckles on her face. She still has thirty-seven, just like the last time I counted.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I know I should leave her alone for the night. Go to another room. Crash on the couch or something, but I stupidly decide to stay with her.
“Happy Birthday, privighetoarea mea mic?,” I whisper to her before I allow myself to succumb to my exhaustion.
And I hate to admit it, but I end up sleeping like a goddamn baby with her in my arms.