Page 105 of Marked (Russian Sinners 1)

“You’re going to make your old man cry,” he muttered.

“I think I’m dehydrated so I can’t cry,” Anastasia attempted to joke in a cracked voice. “Could I have something to drink please?”

I ran an arm around her back to brace her up.

“The doctor mentioned you’ll be dehydrated when you wake up,” I told her softly. “He said to give you only water.”

Her grandfather took the glass from my hand and her father held the straw to her lips. She took her first swallow and then another, a satisfied moan tumbling from her.

The doctor came in at that moment. I was certain we looked ridiculous; like three male nurses fussing over a patient and clearly not knowing what we were doing.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted us all. Anastasia’s head fell back into the crook of my arm. “I see the patient is awake.”

Yeah, no shit Sherlock.But I kept my mouth shut. Main thing was that he made my milaya better.

He proceeded to come over to the bed. Her grandfather and father moved out of the way, so I was left holding her.

“Your husband stayed by your side the entire time,” the doctor talked as he checked her vitals. “He refused to leave you.”

Anastasia raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, he can be overbearing sometimes.”

Her grandfather chuckled in the back of the room, and I beamed at the idea that Anastasia didn’t even blink her eye at being my wife. She struggled to sit upright but hissed as the pain hit her.

“Easy, milaya,” I told her.

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “You will have to take it easy for a few days to ensure the wound doesn’t open. You are still weak from the bloodloss.”

She nodded and stayed still for the rest of her examination. Ten minutes later, the doctor left us with a final say she’d have to stay in the hospital for at least another three to four days.

With him gone, all of us resumed our positions. Anastasia’s fingers tangled with mine, and she lightly brushed her fingers over my knuckles as she spoke with her family.

“So what happened with Boris?” Her abrupt change of subject was like a slice in the air.

Her father tightened his lips in a straight line.

I finally told her. “We brought him along but he never made it through surgery.”

Three heartbeats, and she answered, “Good.”

I debated whether to tell her or not Boris’ last words. I didn’t want her looking to the past. She was light and the future, and deserved happiness.

“He took the second bullet,” I told her softly, squeezing her hand in comfort. “He asked me to tell you he was sorry.”

Her eyes drifted between three of us, as if verifying it was the truth.

“It’s too late,” she murmured. “I could never forgive what he did to Mom. Although maybe we should bury him.”

I could understand that. Certain things you could never forgive nor forget but Anastasia still had a soft heart. She was willing to give a proper burial to the man that caused her so much pain.

Her soft heart was the reason she even bothered giving a man like me a second look. She had become my everything. I was like a man dying of thirst, and she was my water. I couldn’t stop touching her to ensure she was really awake.

I brushed my hand through her hair. “I’ll take care of it.”

Her father spoke up. “So how is this going to work?”

“What do you mean?” Anastasia frowned. I knew I should stop this conversation and insist on her getting some rest. She’d have to slowly build up her strength.

“You and Dimitry,” he added.

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