Page 44 of Betraying Family Vows
I press my fingertips gently along his ribcage, feeling for tenderness. His breathing changes, but he makes no sound of pain.
"Does this hurt?" I ask, pressing lightly on a darkening bruise.
"A little, but not too bad."
I smile, and I'm suddenly very aware of how close I am to him. My knee pressed against his thigh. My hair falling forward, brushing his chest as I lean in to examine a particularly nasty cut. His breath warm on my forehead.
"What does this say?" I ask, nodding to the phrase on his chest.
"Mol?n labé. Come and take them."
I look at him. "I don’t get it."
He grins. "It's what King Leonidas told Xerxes the night before the battle of Thermopylae. He sent someone to ask the Spartans for their weapons and that was Leonidas’s response, come and take them."
I smile. "What is it with men and their love of Spartans?"
"For me, it's not just a warrior but my role as a protector."
I pause before grabbing some bandages to place over his final cuts across his ribs.
"Is that why you saved me?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it. "At the gas station. That man was about to shoot me."
Dimitri's eyes meet mine. "I need you alive."
"For what?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, it matters," I say, pressing the bandage harder than necessary against the cut on his ribs. "It matters to me."
He catches my wrist, stilling my movements.
"The truth is, I knew whoever set you up planned on killing you when they didn't need you anymore. But you didn't. You thought they'd come save you. That I was still the bad guy," he says, loosening his grip so I pull my hand free, "but when I saw that look in your eyes, that realization that everything you thought was wrong... to me, you became innocent in all this. And," he sighs, "and I've never wanted to protect someone more."
My chest tightens. The words hitting me harder than I expect. I don't want to need those words. But fuck, I do.
I turn to fidget through the first aid kit, pretending I'm unfazed.
During my fake search, I find some ibuprofen pills and tear them open and grab the water bottle.
"Here," I say, dropping them in his hand, "take these."
He does, and I just stare at him, taking in everything.
"You know," he says, handing the water back to me, "I feel like we're a lot alike."
I lean back and sit against a stone and take a sip of the water. "What do you mean?"
"Raised in your mom's shadow. Never feeling like you can be yourself or live up to her. Take anything you can if it promises to pull you out of that shadow."
I nod. "Something like that."
"Please. It's exactly like that. Look at you. You're sitting in oversized clothes splattered with blood. You just had someone point a gun to your head with the intention of killing you. And," he says and sticks his hand out for the water, "you're stuck here with me, unsure of your fate. You're way too pretty for all that, Alepoudítsa."
It's weird, but I'm starting not to mind that nickname.
"Well, I am among some beautiful ancient Greek ruins, so that's a plus," I say, taking the water back and taking another sip. "Plato's house, right?"
