Page 24 of Stained Protector

Shivers wreck down her tense body as I deliberately rub my thumb over the cut on her shoulder blade.

“I know you’re still upset and don’t want to see me,” I broach wisely, hushing her frantic rebuttal. “We can put the past where it belongs.”

My offer is simple. We continue to be married in honor of my promise to protect her and move to a new home. I acquired it years ago as an emergency home, built into a gated community alongside other expensive vacation homes and covered by rotating teams of guards.

I wouldn’t mind her turning the extra space into a hobby room.

“Will he get to me there?” she asks, almost pleading for an answer that saves her from breaking down.

“Next week is Valentine’s Day, meaning hotels are fully booked. You could go to your parents or go back to your apartment.”

The implication pales her rosy cheeks, her cold body shakes harder, and those pretty little fingers hastily seek mine.

“I want to take care of you,” I urge, peppering kisses to her temple. “Can I?”

She’s nodding before I’m finished.

I press a rewarding kiss to her cheek, my fingers deftly untangling the wires hooked on the monitor. I took a brief and detailed scan of her charts hanging at the foot of her bed when I came in, so I understand the severity of her wounds.

The doctor recommends overnight observation for unexpected complications that arise with time. I prefer her at home, being watched like a hawk and stealing kisses after she sleeps.

“I’m taking you home,” I warn her, and it seems she’s in her head.

I shrug out of the jacket and drape it over her shoulders, enveloping her in fabric and warmth. Her fingers peek through the sleeves as she gathers the collars together, making her appear smaller than she is while color soars on her ashen cheeks.

The disposable hospital sandals tap-tap-tap beside me as we’re stopped by the head nurse. She warns that Anya is advised for overnight observation. Davis emerges from thin air, swerving fluidly between us with his goofy grin, and tells the head nurse that he needs to verify Anya’s statement at the precinct.

He sends a wink as I steer Anya away, and I could stab him with the passing nurse’s pen.

“Don’t look at him, Anya. You’ll get nightmares.”

She nods with innocently wide eyes and shuffles closer to grab onto my arm.

The world is dark blue skies and lit skyscrapers, revitalizing the nightlife as busy EMTs reel in an overdose partygoer. Anya sits with tense muscles, wringing fingers while her unflinching eyes zone out the window in thought.

The shock hasn’t and won’t wear off for a couple of hours.

I scan the parking lot and land on Davis’s vehicle. That reminds me, he needs to put a leash on one of his pesky past conquests.

I belong to Anya, and I won’t say it twice to anyone.

“Can we go home?” she mutters, eyes red-rimmed and nose tip slightly pink.

I reach over her and fasten the seatbelt, promising to fight the sleepless demons for her. After her breathing evens, I press a fervent kiss on the corner of her lips.

Chapter Seven

Anya

Okay, I get it now.

Under the flowing blues of his eyes, exhilaration strives for air as he grins. They stare as if the sky breaks, and the world mutes to deathly gray—desperate and deprived. There’s a hint of peace in the curve of his smile, almost a reassurance when I peer over my shoulder from behind the thick curtains.

He’s relieved. Then he sighs and runs a hand with suppressed tremors into his messy hair. He ignores the short strands defying gravity in favor of softly chastising me for scaring him.

His words bounce off my head, and my ears are stuffed with cotton, so I just relish the hoarse timbre.

It’d be nice to have this every morning. Us, a quiet house, and the intimacy etched in the presence of the walls. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Days, months, and years. I want him forever, eternity, and reincarnations.

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