Page 72 of The Bratva's Innocent Forbidden Bride
I was in and out of consciousness as the doctor patched me up, surprisingly gentle despite always having a grouchy look on his face or muttering something unpleasant whenever I opened my eyes.
The bed I was on was soft and the air cool, with a hint of orange blossoms wafting in sometimes to cover up the smell of the ointment the doctor slathered on my bruises. Sometimes it was dark when I opened my eyes, sometimes there was bright sun streaming in through the window next to my bed, but always, always, there was Kon.
Either sitting in the armchair, pulled up close to my bed, his hand resting on the blankets beside me, or standing over me with a look of concern, that always melted into a smile when he saw I was awake. I wanted to speak, to reach out to him, but either I was more badly hurt than I thought, or the doctor had me sedated. All I could do was sleep and heal, according to Kon.
“Get better, love,” he said every time.
Love. He said he loved me, and that wasn’t part of one of the many dreams I drifted in and out of. That was real. Nothing else seemed to matter besides that, and seeing his smile whenever I woke up.
It had to have been several days, according to the patterns of darkness and light, but the next time I opened my eyes, I no longer felt overly heavy or groggy. Kon murmured sounds of worry when I heaved myself up, tugging on the pillows under my head.
“I’m sick of lying flat on my back,” I grumbled.
He beamed as he helped me arrange the pillows so I could sit up, and I was only a bit breathless when I was settled. The curtains on the window shifted in the breeze, bringing in more orange blossom scent. I took a deep breath as I saw a small group of orange trees just outside the house. Then I turned to him and reached for his hand at the same time as he held it out.
“It’s good to see you alert and hear you complaining,” he said, brushing some hair behind my ear.
Oh God, I must look like I’d been through a hurricane. Actually, that might not have been so bad. Then it all rushed back.
“How’s Papa?” I asked, trying to get out of bed.
“He’s fine, getting better every day. You can see him later. Just let me look at you right now so that I know you’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay.”
“You were asleep for three days,” he said. “The doctor said it was fine, but…”
“There you go, worrying too much again.”
He finally leaned over to kiss me, and I kept my mouth tightly shut despite longing to let him devour me. My breath had to be worse than cow dung. He pulled away laughing.
“Of course, I worry about you. I always will. What I won’t ever care about is how you think you look or anything like that.”
“Not even cow dung breath?”
“You taste better than those oranges out there,” he said, nodding toward the window. “And you look like a goddess of health and vitality.” His eyes grew serious, and he squeezed my hand. “I won’t lose you ever again.”
At the sound of his voice cracking, I squeezed back. “You never lost me. I made a mistake. I won’t ever run again. If I think you’re being stupid, I’ll stick around and tell you.”
He laughed, kissing me again, but on the cheek. “And I’ll try not to be stupid, how’s that?”
“I think we have a deal.”
Now it was my turn to grow serious. “I didn’t really mean how was Papa’s health. I know how strong he is. I meant, how pissed off is he?”
Kon sighed, all the happiness of a moment before draining out of him. “He’s not happy with me. It’s pretty bad, actually.”
He shook his head, looking out the window, but his thoughts were obviously on something other than the view. I had seen him upset, pissed off, and definitely annoyed, but this was something deeper, like sorrow.
My stomach sank. “You’re not going to do something stupid right after you promised you’d stop, are you?” I asked, holding tight to his hand, which had gone limp in mine. “Something like let me go for my own good?”
His eyes shot to mine, but the laughter I hoped for never came. “I love you, Tati. I want you. I can’t fucking live without you. But not if you’re unhappy. Not if you have to give anything up.”
So things were that bad with Papa. Before I could find an argument or a way to reassure him, my stomach forgot how upset I was and growled loudly. If I were asleep for three days, I must not have been eating, either.
Kon actually looked relieved and stood up. “You’ve barely had a few sips of broth in all this time,” he said briskly. “I’ll bring you something you can actually chew.”
I shook my head and swung my legs over the side of the bed. “No way. I want out of this room.”
