5. Dani
5
DANI
AND I AM TELLING YOU I’M NOT GOING
I jolt awake.
The rhythmic beeping invades my nightmare, its steady pulse a lifeline dragging me back to consciousness. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids: the glint of a gun, the deafening crack of a gunshot, and the searing pain that follows. In my dream, I'm screaming, falling, tumbling into an endless abyss of darkness and fear. It’s Omar’s jackal grin, not Oscar’s, that greets me.
My eyes fly open, a growl escaping my throat instead of a scream. Pain lances through my left side, but I push it aside, forcing my mind to focus.
Sterile white walls swim before me, and I blink hard, willing the room to stop spinning, distorting, and twisting like a funhouse mirror. My chest heaves with each ragged breath, the movement sending jolts of pain through my left side where the bullet struck. A large figure looms over me from the right. Before the hand holding me down can retreat, I perceive the threat. Instinct takes over. With a strength born of pure adrenaline, I lash out. My fist connects with solid flesh, and I hear a grunt of surprise and pain.
A gasp sounds near my left ear, it’s abrupt and feminine—surprised and fear-laced. I know it well.
“Don’t touch me. You'll lose the hand," I snarl, my voice raw but steady. On my left, the tinny sound of metal, more than one kind, clattering to the tile rings out. What are they doing to me?
The bodyguard, Rhys—he’s one of mine, stumbles back, his eyes wide with shock. “Dani, I. Your dressing,” he says, hands raised in a placating gesture. “You were fighting the nurse—”
"Save it," I cut him off, pushing myself up despite the protest from my wound. Angling my head left, an action which triggers a mountain of pain for a minuscule move, I spot a blonde in black medical scrubs, pale green eyes, lean build, holding her breath. She’s beautiful and afraid. Her eyes stray to Rhys. Silly woman, waiting for a savior. The Governor is a predator’s cave, a rest area. There’s no safety here for a damsel in distress. She should get out before it’s too late. Dismissed as a non-threat, I pin my guard with a stare. “Where's Xeno?”
As if summoned by his name, the door to the recovery room bursts open with a bang, startling everyone in the room. Xeno Voss, the man I took a bullet for, strides in, his face a mask of concern and barely contained fury. The sight of Xeno, alive and unharmed, sends a wave of relief washing over me. I sag back against the pillows, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it had come.
"Dani,” he breathes, relief evident in his voice.
Xeno’s gaze sweeps the room, taking in the scene before him. His jaw clenches as he notices Rhys's proximity to my bed, the red mark blooming on the bodyguard's jaw. His eyes dart between me and Rhys, narrowing dangerously. "What the fuck happened?”
"Just a miscommunication between me and my man here,” I say coolly, meeting Xeno’s intense gaze. “It’s handled.”
“Your man.” Xeno’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “You were screaming. He touch you?”
I sit taller, seeing this shit is about to spiral and touch down like a fucking tornado. “Nothing to it. The nurse needs to look at my wound.”
He turns to Rhys, his voice low and threatening. "Get out. Now. And don't let me find your ass back here.”
Rhys straightens, his professional demeanor slipping more than his actual reply. “Dani and I are friends. I’ll stay.”
One look at Xeno’s face, the way he narrows his eyes on Rhys, and I know the tornado is imminent. His nostrils flare, his eyes flashing with a possessive anger that thrills and terrifies me. Yes, I’d used Rhys’s body, and he’d used mine. The dalliance hadn’t lasted long. It certainly wasn’t worth disclosing to the pissed off male in our midst. Xeno steps to Rhys, pushing him against the wall, his thick forearm against his neck.
Oh shit. This fool is over-the-top jealous.
“Xeno, what the fuck,” I hiss, feeling helpless to intervene in an assless hospital gown. “Let him go.” He ignores me. The nurse flees the room. Seconds later, I heard a siren.
“Is that code, fucker?” Xeno snorts. Rhys clutches at the band of muscle, robbing him of vital oxygen. It’s no use. Xeno uses his mass, an unforgiving weight, ready to punish me for a grievance on my behalf. “You been up in her guts? Then you know not to fucking touch her.”
Boots coming in our direction clap a thunderous staccato that vibrates the rails, locking me in bed. “Don’t come in here,” I yell. “Stay where you are.”
“Dani.” It’s Youric’s voice, etched with concern. “I’m coming in.”
Xeno stiffens, and the pressure he applies to Rhys’s neck increases. Rhys’s tan skin is mottled a bluish-gray. It’s then that I realize how scared Xeno is for me. In his own fucked up way, he’s protecting me from further harm. If more men enter this room, he’ll view them as a threat. He’ll defend his perceived right to stay at my side. Damn, he must have been a wreck when I lost consciousness. For a man like Xeno to lose, even the hired help must’ve shaken his need to protect and defend.
“Don’t Youric. We’re okay.” I watch as the muscles along my protector’s back relax.
“You got five minutes,” he calls back.
All the time in the world. I understand anger, fear, and helplessness. Destructive emotions need an outlet. For people like me and Xeno, that outlet is physical, aggressive, and violent. I know how rage can drive a person to rip and claw at their skin just to feel a moment of release, even if it’s the blood in your veins.
“Xeno,” I whisper, careful to keep the discomfort and surprise from my voice. “Stop.” With one hand, I reach for him; the other has an intravenous line hooked to a hanging bag of fluid flowing into my arm. “I’m okay.”
He looks at me. Studying my eyes, the bandage wrapping my chest before disappearing over one shoulder. I nod, reassuring him that I’m telling him the truth. Slowly, he releases his grip on Rhys. The other man doubles over, coughing, his complexion ruddy as he sucks in huge gulps of air.
“Dani, he’s a psycho—get him—”
“Consequences,” Xeno interrupts.
Rhys angles his head up in confusion, hands still on his knees. “What, asshole?”
Xeno doesn’t look at him. No, his whiskey-brown eyes lock on mine like this man’s fate rests in my palms. I suppose it does. “For her, I’ll dig graves and drop the bodies. Trust and believe. If I have to repeat myself, there will be consequences.”
The way his eyes divert to my breasts has me sucking in a breath. Damn, he’s directing his threat to me and my protection detail. I need to handle this dick swinging in privacy.
“Go,” I say to Rhys. “I got him.”
Rhys hesitates a second too long. Xeno curls both hands into tight fists. I give a barely perceptible nod of dismissal. Even wounded, I’m still da’bitch in charge. That has Rhys moving away, his steps hastening. The door closes behind him with a soft click.
Xeno approaches my bed. His expression softens, but I can still see the storm brewing in his eyes. Lowering the safety rail, he doesn’t ask permission. Instead, he sits on my bed, his eyes roving over me, cataloging every visible injury. "How bad is it?" he demands as if he has every right to share in my pain.
I stare up at him. “You just going to brush off that shit you just pulled?”
He pushes a stray curl away from my cheek. They removed my straight-cut wig, so my shoulder-length ringlets must be a tangled mess. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”
“Not your business.” I swallow as he traces one knuckle along my jaw. He leans into me, brushing his shoulder against my uninjured side. There are dark circles under his eyes and stubble growing from his chin. He’s showered, but he looks exhausted. I inhale his earthy sandalwood scent, welcoming the warmth in these four walls with hoses, knobs, and bagged masks. I never paid attention to the white walls before. For reasons I dare not think on, it’s a relief to see and feel another body beside me. But why am I allowing him such liberties? Why can’t I push him away like I’ve done with the others?
“Answer my question, Dani.”
The way he says my name has a drugging effect. My eyes drift lower, settling on his mouth. Would he taste as delicious as he smells?
"I've had worse," I reply with a shrug, then wince as the movement pulls at my stitches. "I wouldn't recommend getting shot as a hobby."
"Do you remember what happened?” he asks gently, though his body is tense.
I close my eyes, flashes of memory assaulting me. The airport terminal, the sea of terrified faces, men surrounding us. And then, the glint of metal, a face I recognize with a jolt of fear. I'd reacted on instinct, throwing myself in front of Xeno as the shot rang out.
"I remember," I say softly, opening my eyes to meet Xeno's intense gaze. "I did my job.”
A ghost of a smile flickers across Xeno’s face before disappearing. "Your job," he says, his voice tight with emotion, "was not to take a bullet for me."
I look at him, unflinching. "My job is to keep you alive, by any means necessary. You’re safe. End of story."
Xeno’s nostrils flare, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something darker, more possessive. "And who keeps you alive, ma cherie? Did you stop to think about that?"
"I'm still breathing, aren't I?" I counter, a challenging edge to my voice.
“This time,” Xeno growls. He leans in closer, his presence filling my senses. "I won't allow this to happen again. You're off duty until you're fully recovered."
I bark out a laugh, ignoring the twinge of pain it causes. "Nice try, Voss. But you don't get to make that call. I'll be back on duty when I'm cleared by medical. Not you.”
“Fuck that,” Xeno snaps. “You’re my bodyguard. I say when.”
I bristle. Who the fuck put him in charge of me?” “You’re reassigned, effective immediately.”
“It's you or no one,” he states, still stroking my face.
“Stop that shit,” I pull back, the spell broken.
“You better heal quickly," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "Because until you're one hundred, I'm not leaving you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. "Don't be stupid. You need protection, especially now."
“I need protection—,” he stops abruptly. “Fuck woman, when I saw your blood…I thought..." He trails off, unable to voice the fear that had gripped him in that moment.
I feel a flutter in my chest that has nothing to do with my injury. The raw emotion in Xeno’s voice, the way his eyes seem to drink me in, stirs something within me that I'd long thought dead. But I push the feeling aside, burying it deep. I can't afford such complications, not in my line of work, and certainly not with a client.
I open my mouth to argue, but Xeno cuts me off. "Save the shit for the pile, Dani. We can fight after you're better, and then we can fuck until we both forget how shitty yesterday was. Until then, we stay together. We’ll kill them before they try to kill us.”
The finality in his voice should irritate me, but instead, I feel a warmth blooming in my chest. I push the feeling aside, focusing on the practical. "And your business? Your obligations?"
"They can wait," Xeno says dismissively. "You're my priority."
I want to argue further, to point out all the flaws in his plan, but exhaustion is creeping in, my eyelids growing heavy. "This isn't over," I mutter, even as I feel myself sinking back into the pillows.
"I wouldn't expect anything less," Xeno says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Youric, he calls, “Come take care of her.”
Youric enters the room, a frown on his face, the same blonde on his heel. “I need to speak with you, X.”
“Not now.” He gestures to my bandage. “Take care of her, then leave.”
The air crackles with tension between the brothers. I’d be lying if I denied I like that Xeno is unflappable. The man knows what he wants—to stay with me. As if he senses me watching him, he gives me a rare smile.
It vanishes the second Youric touches my bandaged arm. “Shit,” I grunt, gripping the sheets with my free hand. Burning pain fires through my chest. Oh God, I pray for blackness to take me. Youric says nothing, just pulling and pushing on my wound. I smell my blood, and the tang sucks me back to Oscar, to that bedroom, to the pain. My breathing becomes ragged, coming in quick gulps, no longer deep breaths. “Wa–it, sto–”
Xeno jumps to his feet, grabbing the hand punishing the sheets. “Ma Cherie,” he says, his voice steady, and I snatch hold of his calm, trying to anchor my rising heart rate. He threads his fingers through mine. “You got this.”
He sounds more assured than I feel. Will I ever be free of the past? With his thumb, Xeno strokes my palm. His touch is soothing. Slowly, I wrestle my breath and pulse back to a comfortable rhythm.
Afterwards Youric and the blonde work in tandem, clearing away sterile drapes, blood-soaked gauze, and tape. I don’t miss the disapproval in his eyes. A part of me wonders if he thinks Xeno is good for the likes of me. Not that it matters. He’s here. And, he’s staying. Questioning why I trust him at his word is useless at this point. The truth is we want the same thing.
“Sleep. I’m here,” he says like all I need is him at my side.
As I drift off, I'm vaguely aware of Xeno settling into the chair beside my bed. His overwhelming presence feels comforting. Safe.
I sleep fitfully, drifting in and out of consciousness. Each time I surface, Xeno is there, a constant vigil in the dim light of the hospital room. Sometimes, he's on his phone, speaking in hushed but commanding tones. Other times, he's just watching me, his gaze a tangible weight.
At some point during the night, I reach out, my hand finding him in the darkness. His fingers intertwine with mine instantly, warm and solid. I don't let go, and neither does he.
Come morning, we'll have to address this — whatever this is between us. The lines we've crossed, the boundaries we've blurred. I'll have to remind him that I'm his bodyguard, not his possession. That my job is to protect him, not to need him.
But for now, in the quiet of the night, with his hand anchoring me to consciousness, I allow myself this moment of weakness. Because deep down, I know the truth I've been fighting against since I first saw Xeno Voss. I might be an alpha, fiercely independent, and unwaveringly strong. But even alphas need a pack. And somehow, against all odds and my better judgment, Xeno has become mine.