And then nothing else mattered as everything faded and I let the frigid hands that had a firm grip on me drag me down into the abyss.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Amara
I was warm but it didn’t feel real, like when you’re staring into a television screen at a roaring fire and can imagine the heat moving to you, through you, yet it’s not your reality.
But as consciousness slowly altered through me, stronger and faster with each passing moment, I was aware of sounds and smells filtering through my nose, ears, and brain.
A crackling fire, the scent of real wood burning.
Something strong, stringent close to me. Antiseptic.
I felt a heavy weight on me, but it wasn’t suffocating, it didn't hold me down even though I couldn’t move.
“You won’t leave me.”
At first I didn’t know if I’d heard the words correctly, recognized the voice. But then I felt warmth—real heat—cover the side of my face.
A palm. Big and strong. Familiar.
“I forbid it.”
Nikolai.
I turned my head toward that hand, that warmth.
“That’s it, my good girl,” he crooned gently. “You’ll stay with me because there is no other option.” Nikolai started murmuring in Russian. Prayers maybe.
I wanted to tell him praying couldn’t stop death, and I felt like that’s where I was headed as the events leading up to right now came rushing back violently, painfully.
“Come on, my sweet, beautiful girl.” His words were whispered soft, his tone gentle. I’d never heard him sound like this before. “Open and let me see that gorgeous ocean color.”
And as if his words were what I needed to find that inner strength, to push past the pain and drugged sensation that tried to keep me under its spell, I opened my eyes.
I kept thinking about what had happened with Francesca. The gun, the shots I’d heard. I didn’t remember after that, after she’d looked at me with these wide eyes and this shocked expression on her face.
I blinked several times and stared at the ceiling. I looked around the room, seeing familiar things, items and fixtures from one of our guest rooms.
“I’m still here.” My voice was thick, my throat tight as I formed the words and pushed them out with a thick tongue.
There was a man who started speaking in Russian. Nikolai barked out something that sounded vile and dangerous. A threat.
He turned his head so he was screaming at something across the room, presumably the man who’d spoken. But I was still too heavy to follow his gaze. A muscle under his cheek ticked, his neck flexing as his face turned red as he continued to spit out angry words to the man.
But still he kept his hand on my cheek, his thumb gently sweeping right under my eyes.
“Do it all. Whatever it takes,” he responded in English. “Your life depends on hers.” The words were sharp and cold and hard. I was glad they weren’t directed at me. And then he was looking at me again.
I realized my mouth was moving, but the words I tried to speak were too low. I felt too weak and I God, everything hurt. I closed my eyes and the words coming through were louder.
He leaned in and whispered, “what is it, malishka?” His voice was soft, softer than I’d ever heard it.
“It’s cold.” I didn’t know if I said that out loud, but when my teeth started chattering I felt Nikolai’s other hand cover each side of my face.
“Little doll.” His voice sounded funny. His face started to bleed out of focus. I didn’t want to stop looking at him.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” He kept saying that over and over again. He stroked my cheeks and brought one of his hands up to show me that my tears covered his fingers. “Your tears are so sweet, but not like this, not right now. You’ll give me more of these sweet tears when you're better. Only then, when we are laying together in our bed and I can use my body as a shield protecting you, only then will you give me these tears because they’ll be in pleasure.” He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. “You’ll give me all that because I won’t accept any less.”
Then there was someone standing beside me, the blankets being pushed aside, and the sensation of tugging moving my body. But I never stopped looking at Nikolai.
“Because these tears are as sweet as the hold you have over me.”
And it was those words that pulled me down. I fought and fought and fought, not wanting to get dragged to the undercurrents and taken away from Nikolai.
But like almost all aspects of my life thus far, I had no choice but to comply.
I heard the gentle sloshing of water, then felt the warm droplets along my brow. I furrowed my brow and heard someone shushing me.
When I opened my eyes it was to see the wavy, out of focus visage of Claudia sitting at my bedside.
“Hey you,” Claudia said softly and ran the rag over my temple and down my cheek. “Scared the hell out of all of us.” More sounds of water sloshing, of dripping, and then the soft sweep of the rag on the other side of my head. “Gio arrived late last night. He’s freaking out, of course, going all beast-mode on everyone, threatening to kill anyone who gets too close to you—”
“—you’re okay,” I cut her off and lifted my arm—which felt far too heavy—to place my hand on her thigh. “I thought, God, Claudia, I thought you were going to get shot.”
She gave me a sad smile and shook her head, a stray tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m fine. I’m fine. And it’s because you acted, even if it was dumb and crazy and I hate you for getting hurt because of it.” She smiled sadly and for the first time my sister didn’t seem like she was a girl. She held herself like a woman who’d already seen far too much. “But…” She looked away.
“But what?” I tried to sit up but gasped in pain, my side burning, searing, like I was consumed by fire.
“Hey, hey, hey,” she said and shook her head vehemently. “Stay put. You’re going to ruin the work the doctor did and then that’ll piss off Nikolai and he’ll either kill someone or kick Gio’s ass again.”
I stilled and Claudia chuckled. “When Gio first arrived he strode in here like his ass was on fire. You woke up but you were out of it. You started thrashing on the bed. Nikolai dragged him out by his throat, kicked his ass in the hallway, and told him the next time he hurt you—even inadvertently—he'd put a bullet in each of his knees caps.” Claudia rolled her eyes and exhaled. “Men.” She said that lone word like it explained everything and I smiled.
I had no recollection of Gio coming in here or thrashing around. But that wasn’t important. Because the longer I stared at her face the more I knew something was wrong. Really wrong. “Tell me,” I croaked out.
She exhaled on a huff and tossed the rag in the small bowl on the bedside table. “Francesca shot off three rounds. One of them hit you in the side, but thankfully Nikolai acted fast and got a Russian doctor here. He was covered in your blood.” Her face blanched. “Pressure on the wound, and was the only one not freaking out. As long as there isn’t an infection and you don’t strain yourself, he said you’ll make a full recovery.”