20. Karolina
KAROLINA
I’m floating on a warm cloud. I let out a low hum and stretch contentedly.
Pain lances my shoulder, and I still on a soft cry.
Brandon shushes me, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t move. You’re safe now. You don’t have to fight anymore.”
Dark memories stir: Brandon’s face twisted with agony, blood oozing from my shoulder, and Sokolov’s hands on me…
My eyes fly open on a gasp, and I wince when even the smallest movement jars my injury.
“Brandon?”
His blue eyes fill my world, and I ignore the pain so I can clutch at him. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine. I need you to rest. We’re home. No one will touch you here.”
My brow furrows, and I glance around. “Home?”
We’re in our bedroom in the lavish manor he bought for me.
“How?”
“We’ve been here for two days now,” he says, voice low and soothing as he strokes my hair back from my cheek. “You’ve been on strong painkillers.”
That explains the pleasant fog that lingers at the edges of my mind.
“We’re alive.” I can hardly believe it. “You got us out.”
He caresses my cheek. “Logan helped. He shut off the power remotely, and the darkness gave me the advantage I needed to break out of the cuffs.” He gently presses his forehead to mine. “Never do anything like that ever again. The next time I tell you to leave me, you leave.”
I cup his cheek in return, using my uninjured arm. “No. I will never leave you for dead again. I love you.”
He closes his eyes, as though the declaration almost causes him pain. “I love you, too,” he promises. “But I can’t bear it if anyone hurts you like that ever again. Living without you is pointless. You’re my entire world, Karolina. You always have been.”
“What happened to them?” I ask. “Those men. Are they dead?”
He grimaces. “Sokolov is dead. Four of the fuckers who bid on you ran away. I’ll hunt them down and make an example of them. None of my enemies will so much as think your name ever again.”
I take a moment to study him. I don’t read a shred of guilt or hesitation in his steady gaze.
He’ll make sure this never happens again. He’ll kill them slowly for me.
I don’t feel guilty, either.
Those men deserve to suffer. The world will be a safer place without them in it.
We’ll be safer.
“And what then?” I ask. “What happens after?”
His eyes flash with the possessive light that makes me melt. “We spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Yes, please,” I agree.
His thumb traces the line of my small smile.
“I thought you would never forgive me,” he says roughly. “I lied to you about so many things. When you found out I stalked you… I didn’t think you could ever love me after that.”
“Logan talked some sense into me,” I reassure him. “What you did isn’t okay, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I was too scared to fully open my heart to you before, but I love you. I trust you. How can I not when you tried to trade your life for mine?”
I give him a stern frown. “It’s my turn to warn you never to do that again. No matter what happens, we live for each other now. No dying alone for noble reasons. No dying at all. Just happily-ever-after, please.”
He kisses me, and I feel his doting smile against my lips. “So bossy. I can’t deny you anything.”
“No, you can’t,” I agree breathily. “Kiss me again.”
He obeys, claiming my mouth in slow, careful caresses. After our shared trauma, I crave to pull him close and feel him buried deep inside me.
But I’m too injured for that.
And so is he.
I become aware of the brace around his left hand.
“Did you break your hand?”
He shrugs. “I dislocated my thumb. It’ll heal quick enough. I’m only worried about you now.”
I tap his nose in light rebuke. “We’ll worry about each other. I’ll rest and recover if you will.”
He groans and gently shapes his body around mine. “That mouth.”
I tip my head back, seeking another kiss. His lips thin with regret.
“You need more painkillers.”
“I’m not ready to sleep right now. I want to talk about what we’re going to do next.”
A shadow flits at his jaw. “What comes next is I end those bastards who hurt you.”
I touch the spot where his dimple shows when he smiles. “I mean after that. I’ve decided to quit my MA.”
He cocks his head at me. “Why? You were so determined to finish it.”
“I don’t want you to be my professor. I don’t want to hide our relationship for a year.”
“I’ll quit, then. I’ve already missed several lectures without a word to the university. I’ve probably been fired.” He strokes my hair. “Finish your course. I know how much it means to you. I’m sorry I was dismissive before. I was being an asshole.”
“At least you acknowledge it now,” I reply coolly. “But thank you,” I say more earnestly. “I don’t want to give up on my MA. I probably have a lot of catching up on missed lectures, too, but I’ll figure out how to ask the department chair for an extension.”
“You’re a brilliant writer. You always have been.”
I remember when I allowed him to read one of my short stories for the first time, back when we were kids. Ever since I’d arrived at our foster home, he’d shot me sullen glowers. I’d thought he hated me, but we eventually bonded over our mutual love of reading.
“Why did you used to glare at me all the time?” I ask. “When I first met you. You wouldn’t even talk to me.”
His eyes darken. “I told you: I’ve never thought I’m worthy of you. I resented the fact we couldn’t be together. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, when I first saw you dance.”
My eyes burn. “What made you change your mind?”
“Because I couldn’t stay away. And when you allowed me to kiss you for the first time, I knew it was only because we were trapped in that abusive home with me.
We only had each other for comfort, but I took what you offered anyway.
Once I started kissing you, I knew I could never stop.
Even though I didn’t think I deserved you, I claimed you for myself. ”
There’s something different about the way he says it now. His face isn’t tight with anguish when he talks about his unworthiness.
“You believe me now,” I observe gently. “You do deserve me. We deserve each other.”
“I love you.”
It’s all he says in reply, but it’s enough.
It’s more than enough.
His love is all-consuming. Overwhelming. Obsessive.
Maybe more than a little unhinged.
And I feel the exact same way about him.
I always will.