Page 7 of Dance with Death

I can’t lose it when she needs me the most.

She points to a spot on her leg, a couple of inches above her ankle bone. “Wrap it all the way around my leg here, tight, but not too tight.”

I nod and unwind the tape, ripping off a piece that’s large enough to wrap around her slender leg. I stick the end on the side of her leg and put my thumb over it, holding it in place as I give a tug to make it taut. I wrap it around—the piece is long enough to go around almost twice—and rub my fingers over it to make sure it’s secure.

“Take another piece,” she says, then pauses, blowing out a shaky breath through her lips. “Put the end here.” She points to the piece I’ve just wrapped around her. “Straight down, over the ankle bone, under my foot, back up the other side.Tight, Ezra.”

I do as she tells me, but before I wrap beneath her foot, she sucks in a deep breath and pulls her toes backward. Her face contorts as her foot trembles and she releases it, letting it fall forward again to a relaxed position. Fresh tears push their way from her eyes and she grits her teeth.

“Oh, God,” she sobs. “Fuck. You have to push my foot back, Ezra. Hold it while you tape it.”

Shit.

Seeing her this way, knowing the pain she’s feeling, literally rips me in half. I can honestly feel it tearing down the middle of my stomach. My own tears threaten to spill, but as hard as it is, I pull everything back inside me and hold it in.

I’ve gotta keep my shit together for her.

I wrap my hand slowly and tenderly around the side of her foot, barely touching, watching her eyes for change with each millimeter of movement as my skin brushes along hers.

“Just do it,” she grunts out her insistence to get this done and over with. Her voice is a growl, primal and animalistic.

I don’t warn her, I just do it. I pull her foot back until her toes are pointing at the ceiling, forming a right angle with her leg. She lets out a shriek and groans, panting through the agony again.

Loving instinct nags in my gut to let go of her foot, to step away, to stop causing her this torture. But I fight it and pull the tape around her foot tight, securing it like a stirrup all the way around to the other side.

“Quick,” she huffs. “Two more pieces around to hold it up. Cover it all tight with the wrap.”

I work fast, adding more tape just as before to stirrup her foot in place. I take the athletic bandage wrap and cover the tape, coiling it around her ankle and over her foot.

We both huff out a breath when it’s done.

“Do you think it’s broken?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I can move it. It hurts. It just hurts so much, Ezra.”

I bend, pressing a kiss to the edge of the bandage on her leg. “What can we do for that? Will he send a doctor? Does he have medication here?”

She falls back in her chair, her head tilting to the ceiling as she rests it on the back. “He’s the one who did this to me. Do you honestly think he would send me a doctor? He didn’t when he broke my nose.”

“He broke your—” I stop myself, hearing the tone of my voice rising in tension.

Stay calm for her.

I shouldn’t be surprised to know he’s broken other parts of her body before. I’ve seen how effectively he’s destroyed her.

“We need to get you in bed, get your foot propped up to help with the swelling.”

Her chest heaves in slow, concentrated, heavy breaths.

She’s still for moments.

But then her breathing suddenly skips and stutters as sobs fight their way out of her lungs. She lifts her head and falls forward, reaching for me, and I’m right there to meet her. Her hands grab my shoulders and she’s trying to pull me into her arms, but I’m wary, right next to her ankle, and I don’t want to hurt her or have her hurt herself.

I shift as I get to my feet and scoop my arms beneath her legs, lifting her from the chair, moving her toward the bed. When she practically screams her panic into my skin, right over my heart, it vibrates inside me from head to toe. It shocks my very being and jolts me into tears right along with her.

I lay her down softly on the bed and reach over to grab extra pillows. I start to pile them beneath her foot—one, then another—trying to get as much lift as possible to help reduce the swelling.

I bend over her to kiss her cheek, her forehead, her lips. I don’t give a shit about what Kostya sees, though I suppose I should. He might tell Nikolai I had my lips on hers again. But when she’s hurting, when she needs me the way she does, I can’t bring myself to give a fuck. He’s already hurt her. He’s already—

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