Page 4 of Wild Heart
“Good boy.”
I grinned. Hand still on my neck, he kept his thumb moving back and forth, ensuring me he was breathing even as his eyes drifted closed.
I didn’t dare move my hands until there were bodies beside me, ready to take my place. Legs quivering, it took me several seconds to climb from Ivan’s body, and when my feet touched the floor, I couldn’t quite feel what was beneath them. Goosebumps rose against my skin and I wrapped my arms around myself as I watched the paramedics work.
The oxygen mask they strapped to his face brought back a memory that felt more like a nightmare. My lungs seized, and I was assaulted with visions of the first time this happened—when I stood right next to a boy I used to know and watched the life drain from his eyes. My parents' whispers were like cuts across my chest…“it’s all his fault.”
Not this time.
Not again.
ChapterTwo
Ivan
He looked like a fucking crime scene—smooth, tanned skin covered in dried blood. My handprint, crimson and bold, still lingered on the curve of his neck. Eyes closed, his lips flapped with each breath he took, but the twitch of his jaw and the wrinkles in his eyelids said he didn’t like the place his sleep had led him. Knees tight to his chest, he had his arms wrapped around himself. Goosebumps rose across his bloodied skin.
He’s cold.
Awareness of his discomfort was enough to lighten the thick fog surrounding my brain.
Tongue heavy and lips dry, I opened and closed my mouth several times, working the small bones in my jaw. I coughed once before asking, “why is he naked?”
“He’s not naked.”
I grunted. “He’s cold and covered in blood.”
“Yourblood, and he seems to like it that way. Kid wouldn’t let anyone touch him, and he went feral any time you were out of his sight. Screamed like someone was ripping his skin off.”
Good.
In the dim, hospital lighting, Elijah wasn’t much more than a shadow hovering at the end of my bed. Knuckles curling, they popped one by one before he cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got shot.”
I hadn’t been awake long enough to assess how I was actually feeling, though the needle in my hand and the IV pole beside me told me I was being pumped with a generous dose of morphine. When the bag ran dry, I’d likely feel like I’d been set on fire.
The bandage across my bare stomach left a lot to the imagination, and I wondered just how bad the gash beneath it was. Dragging my finger over the tightened skin, I noted the way the blood had already soaked through the cotton.
“What’s the damage?”
“You’re down a kidney. Almost drowned in your own blood, but you’ll live.”
His boots clapped when he moved across the room, swiping a bottle of water from a small table and handing it to me.
Plastic crinkled in my palm when I took it, but my fingers were numb even as they pulsed, and I fumbled trying to unscrew the cap.
Christ.
Biting down on the plastic, I used my teeth to turn the cap and then spat it across the room. “How long have I been here?”
“Couple of days.”
The fuck?
“You telling me Marcos has been sitting in that ugly chair half-naked fordays?Get him a goddamn blanket!”
“Every blanket I’ve brought him, he’s laid over you.”
