Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
The side effects would clear soon enough, but it did nothing to get me out of this… situation.
If Roman’s doctor gave me TXA, then more than likely Roman knew what that meant. He wasn’t stupid. He would have asked or done his own research.
The doctor likely would have told him what it was, and why I got it. Even if he hadn’t, one quick Google search and Roman would know how to break me.
He knew about my disease, and worse, he knew that the medication granted him time. Because not only did it stop my bleeding, it also stayed in my system for hours.
So he knew he could hurt me, and it wouldn’t kill me. He knew how fragile I really was.
No.
He knew how fragile my body was.
I was more than just my body.
I pushed my shoulders back and took a deep breath. Ignoring the aching from my ribs and the sharp pain radiating from the shoulder I had landed on—at least I didn’t have to worry about internal bleeding anymore—I faced him.
"This changes nothing," I said with a glare that made grown men shrink.
Roman just cocked his eyebrow at me, silently asking if I was serious.
"I’ll still fight you. Tooth and nail. You will never break me."
There was something forbidden and thrilling about watching the iron grip a man kept around his self-control at all times simply shatter.
His dark, calculating eyes widened and became wild, lit by lunacy from within.
"Changes nothing?" He stalked around the bed toward me.
I shrank back, pulling my feet up and pressing myself to the headboard as I tried to inch away from him.
Everything still hurt, but my instincts overrode the pain and told me to flee.
Not that it mattered. He was too fast, and I was too sore.
In an instant, his body was on top of mine, his hips pinning mine down to the bed as his hands gripped the headboard, caging me in.
He leaned forward, his face inches from mine, and stared down at me.
I stared back, meeting his rage with defiance.
"If you get hurt, you could bleed out and die. Do you fucking understand that?"
"Oh, is the big bad bratva enforcer, the demon of the Ivanovs, worried that I might get hurt?" I taunted. Roman terrified me. My heart was racing, and a cold sweat ran down my spine. He didn’t need to know that. "How did you think this was going to end, Roman? A tickle fight? Or did you think you could just spank me into submission?"
"I can try," he countered.
"I am not a damsel in distress that needs the big, muscular man to come and save me. You forget who I am. I can play with the big boys."
"So, what? You risk your life to prove a point?" he growled, lowering his head a little further.
His breath brushed my lips and tasted of sweet, spicy rum.
"If I die, I die."
His growl vibrated through the space between us, making my skin prickle with an intoxicating blend of fear, arousal, and anticipation.
"You goddamn stubborn woman." His hand moved from the headboard to around the back of my neck and his lips slammed down onto mine.
This wasn’t a kiss.
It wasn’t a show of affection or passion. It was a fucking battle.
A warning. A punishment. All wrapped up in a claim.
I shoved against his chest, fought against his weight, but he was immovable. He called me stubborn, but he was even worse.
I pushed against his chest again. He still didn’t move, so I pressed my nails into his flesh, carving little half-moons into his warm skin through his clean cotton T-shirt.
He growled again, a raw primal sound that sent something sharp and hot through me, tightening my stomach, heating my desire.
My body betrayed me again.
How could I control others when I couldn’t even control my own body, or the way it melted for this man?
I stilled under him, not accepting, but not fighting either.
When he pulled back, his eyes were still dark, his pupils blown wide and his breathing heavy. His expression unreadable.
"Take it out," he said as he got off of me, his thumb running across his lips like he couldn’t believe what he had just done.
"Take what out?"
"The IV. It’s done."
Sure enough, the bag was empty, so I removed the needle and placed a bandage over the tiny hole in my arm. Though I didn’t see the point. With that medication, I’d clot like a normal person and no more than a drop or two would leak from the puncture site.
But I supposed I couldn’t really afford to lose much more.
He waited. Not saying a word, just hovering over me, waiting for me to put the needle down and secure the bandage. His eyes stayed on me. Never straying from my face.
When I glanced back up, meeting his eyes, he still said nothing. He merely stood and then scooped me into his arms.