Page 74 of Possessive Vows

After crying for the scared little girl trapped in my soul, the lost child who never got the knight in shining armor she dreamed of, I lift my head and meet my husband’s icy-blue eyes.

I may have never had a white knight, but I had a savior. My angel of death saved me from foes an uptight warrior never could have survived.

“Thank you,mio marito,” I whisper.

He trails his fingertips over my cheek before wrapping his arms around Zoya and me.

“No, thank you,so´lnyshka,” he says in a low, smooth voice. “You do not belong on the floor. Hold her tight. I will lift you both.”

I stiffen. Shock flows through me as I register how much our bodies touch. This much physical contact would’ve sent me into a panic attack in any other situation, but with Zoya silently begging for comfort, my nightmares seem a million lightyears away.

I gather Zoya more firmly against me and breathe through the agony blasting through my body as Dimitri lifts me to my feet and carefully guides me into the bedroom. Every step sends stabbing pains through my knees and ankles, but I shake my head and lift my chin toward the door.

“Zoya will sleep in our room. She can’t stay in here,” I demand.

With a single nod, Dimitri accepts my declaration and points my toes toward the hall.

My joints refuse to ease into an even stride despite the trek across the house, so I grimace even with Dimitri’s help as I sit on the edge of our bed.

“Is she hurt?” he asks.

Zoya sniffles and twists her hand in my shirt.

“She might need some ice for her arm. Zoya, honey, can you show your father where she hurt you?”

My chest aches as she presses her head harder against me. I gently pry her fingers off my shirt and lift her sleeve while keeping my other arm tight around her. Her knuckles and elbow dig into my stomach, but I don’t care.

A bruise forms on her upper arm.

“I should’ve stabbed her,” I hiss.

His dark chuckle sends terror down my spine.

“Yes, you should have. I would rather dispose of a body than see marks on my child.”

The proclamation shouldn’t melt my insides or fill me with vicious glee, but it does. I’ve never felt so understood or in sync with anyone in my life.

And by the hard glint in his eyes, hewillbe burying a body very, very soon.

“I will get ice for her. What do you need,so´lnyshka?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Do not lie to me,moya zhena. You hurt. How do I fix?”

I swallow the thickness in my throat and ask for ibuprofen and ice. He rewards me with a chaste kiss to my temple before heading into the hall.

He returns carrying a tray overflowing with ice packs, bandage wraps, washcloths, drinks, and snacks.

Without a word, we wrap an icepack loosely around Zoya’s arm and coax her onto the bed with a sugary drink and salty snack. She sits leaned against my side with her chips in my lap. Every time her tiny hand disappears into the bag, my heart swells, and I worry it might burst.

Dimitri kneels in front of me and inspects my swollen arm. I bite back a gasp when he presses a kiss to my red palm. With a scowl on his face, he wraps an ice pack around my arm, secures it with the bandage wrap, and settles my hand onto my thigh before he twists open a bottle of water and offers me a few tablets of ibuprofen pinched between his two fingers.

I open my mouth. He drops the pills onto my tongue and tilts the water to my lips.

I sit in surreal awe as my newfound daughter snuggles against me and my husband continues caring for me. Even though the injuries happened a year ago, relief slowly seeps into my joints as he wraps icepacks around my knees and ankles.

Two small bodies appear in the doorway.

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