Chapter 33
Damien
Something's burning like hell in my abdomen, but when I try to move, I'm enveloped by a sweet caramel scent.
When I manage to open my eyes, I see Roxanne's hair scattered across my body, and my hand instinctively tightens on her waist.
Yesterday's memories hit me hard. The wedding, dancing with her, the gunshot, and a low growl escapes through my teeth at the images flooding my mind.
Because they ruined her day. Because the bullet could have hit her. Because they stole my first evening with my wife.
Roxanne jolts awake beside me and sits up abruptly.
"Did I hurt you?" Her voice is still foggy with sleep but full of concern.
"No, s?onko. I'm fine. Pissed off but fine."
I see her watching me with a thousand questions in her eyes, so I answer her unspoken thoughts.
"I'm sorry you didn't get your perfect day yesterday because of me."
For a few seconds I avoid looking at her, afraid I'll see disappointment in her gaze, afraid I'll see her already regretting saying yes to being mine.
"How many women can say they almost became a widow less than two hours after saying 'I do'?" She tries to joke, but I detect a trace of sadness in her voice that tears at my heart.
I know she's trying to ease the tension, so I follow her lead and do what I do best. I make her smile.
"I think my will would've helped you get over the trauma," I tell her, laughing as I try to sit up, but my liver sends sharp waves of pain through me.
Her hands slip beneath my shoulders, helping me sit up.
"Ooh, could I have kept your motorcycle?"
"Depends. If you stayed faithful to me until...let's say eighty, sure," I reply, watching a radiant smile light up half her face.
"Don't be ridiculous, who the hell would want me at eighty?" she says, laughing as she arranges the pillow behind me.
"Me, obviously. I'm sure I'd reincarnate immediately, and even though I'd probably be younger than you, you seem like the type who'd go around corrupting a young man."
I watch her eyes become glassy.
What the hell did I say wrong?
"You'd reincarnate and choose to be with me again?" she asks softly.
My hand rises to her chin, and though the gesture sends arrows of pain through my abdomen, I don't care. I want to see her eyes when I answer.
"I'd find you in every lifetime, Roxanne. And I'd make sure in each one I made you laugh at least once."
She nods slightly and leans in to kiss my cheek, and my heart starts beating harder. Because it's rare enough for her to initiate a tender or romantic gesture between us that I plan to savor every willingly given touch, every stolen caress.
"I'm really not getting rid of you, am I?" she asks.
With my lips inches from hers, I whisper, "Not a chance. As you can see, I'm not that easy to eliminate."
Right then someone knocks on the door, so I let my head drop, prepared to lose her body warmth. Roxanne gets out of bed and runs to the bathroom. Vasili enters the bedroom, and from the dark circles under his eyes, it's pretty clear he hasn't slept all night.
"What do we know?" I ask.
"Marzena," he replies, and you can't miss the fury in his voice. "I think it's time we went on the offensive."
A smile spreads across my lips because usually I'm the one coming up with these suggestions. I try to stand up, and Vasili is there to catch me when my legs almost give out from the pain. Maybe the bullet missed my liver, but the bastard still hurts like hell.
Until now, the Council has conditioned me not to hurt her until she attacks first.
“Help me get changed. It’s time to bring out the new knife collection. What kind of shape is the bastard who dared to invade my house in?”
"After Roxy gave us the green light to treat him like a sacrificial pig, not great."
My body tenses and I turn slowly toward him.
"Excuse me?"
A laugh escapes my friend as he tosses me a shirt.
"I think you're soulmates. She's got exactly the same dose of crazy as you."
I register his words, but I can't imagine my Roxanne, the woman with every strand perfectly arranged and always a delicate trace of lipstick on her lips, torturing someone.
After I manage to get the shirt and a pair of jeans on, I leave the room with Vasili behind me.
It takes me ten times longer than normal to reach the basement, and I have to stop to breathe at every step, but when I see the individual who raised a gun in my house, his entire torso transformed into a mass of raw meat, I forget any trace of pain.
"I have to admit you had your fun in my absence," I tell the soldiers who instinctively retreat when they see me.
"Please," the guy hisses, not understanding he hasn't found salvation in my presence.
That bullet could have touched her. That bullet destroyed her wedding dress. That bullet put tears in her eyes, and though I'm glad she feels that much emotion at the thought of me being hurt, the image of her wet eyes triggers a wave of pure rage.
There aren't many layers of skin left to peel off him, but I'm inventive with my blades.
His eyes narrow when he sees me approaching, and I'd like to amplify the terror he's feeling right now even more.
Blade in hand, I signal one of the boys to hold his head still.
It takes me less than a minute to cut off an ear, which will go as a souvenir to my dear mother.
"I think I forgot to mention he insulted Roxy when she came down here," Vasili says from behind me, and that's all the motivation I need to push the pain in my abdomen to a corner of my mind.
"You dared look at my woman and say anything other than words of reverence?"
His eyes are closed, but he manages to make a sound I don't recognize. He's more dead than alive at this point, but his lack of respect for her makes me think of ways to keep him alive longer.
But as much as I'd like to do that, I have a lot to sort out, from my own house's security to the psychopath stalking my wife, so I drag the blade across his throat, giving him a gentler death than he deserved.
I look at all the blood that's pooled on the concrete and know the cleaning crew will have a few busy days getting all the fluids out.
My abdomen is burning, so I wash my hands and climb the stairs.
Vasili is behind me and offers me his arm for support. Normally I'd smack him upside the head, but I feel dizzy and don't need to break my neck on these stairs.
"Your wife's going to cut me up if she sees you like this," he mutters.
"She loves me," I hiss through gritted teeth.
"Relax, you'll be on her shit list too if she notices your bandage is stained with blood."
"Fuck."
When we finally reach the bedroom, Roxanne is at a vanity getting ready, and when our eyes meet in the mirror, I can see exactly how badly she wants to kill me.
"Do I really need to tie you to the bed?" she asks, and I can't avoid the smile that spreads across my face.
"Baby, give me a few days and I'll personally bring you the handcuffs," I tell her, forcing myself to push the pain somewhere to the back of my mind.
In moments she's beside Vasili, throwing him a look that would freeze Hell itself.
"And you're going to make sure he stays in that bed until I get back," she tells him firmly.
Vasili nods and leaves the room when she guides me to the bed.
"Where are you going?" I manage to ask as my body sinks into the mattress.
"Marco Agosti called about another party that needs planning, so I'm going to gather the necessary information."
The desire to keep her locked in the house makes me grit my teeth because I know I couldn't force her to give up her work even if her life is in danger.
I still don't know how that bastard slipped into my house, I still don't know what move my dear mother plans to make next, and the psychopath stalking her hasn't shown any sign since the Luna incident, which unsettles me.
"Vasili's going with you, and I don't want to hear any protest, Roxanne. Even if Marco has security, I don't trust anyone right now."
She looks at me and nods slightly.
"I wasn't joking, Damien. You're no good to me dead, so stay put," she tells me, and after arranging a pillow under my head, she's about to leave, but I catch her hand at the last second, making my abdominal muscles scream in pain again.
"You didn't give me a kiss," I tell her with a little pout, but I know she notices my slightly choked tone.
Her eyes go to my shirt, and lifting it slightly, she sees the bandage and the trace of blood there.
"You deserve a punch, not a kiss," she tells me through her teeth.
My eyes soften when I hear her because I don't know if she realizes how visible her concern for me is. This woman, who tries so hard to keep me at a distance, worries about me.
I turn my cheek slightly and know I've won when she leans in and that sweet caramel scent reaches my nose.
When her lips touch my skin, I can't suppress the growl that escapes me.
"Seriously, why does torture even exist in this world when I can have you so close and yet so far away," I whisper to her.
With a smile on her lips, she stands and shakes her head.
Straightening her dress, which had wrinkled when she sat beside me, she tells me, "Get well, honey.
You've got a wedding night to make up for.
" She walks out after winking at me, leaving me with a dopey smile on my face and my chest full of a strange warmth.
Oh, s?onko, one night won't be enough for everything I'm planning to do to you.