Page 11 of Death By Chocolate

Ijolt awake.

The rhythmic beeping invades my nightmare, its steady pulse a lifeline dragging me back to consciousness. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids: the glint of a gun, the deafening crack of a gunshot, and the searing pain that follows. In my dream, I'm screaming, falling, tumbling into an endless abyss of darkness and fear. It’s Omar’s jackal grin, not Oscar’s, that greets me.

My eyes fly open, a growl escaping my throat instead of a scream. Pain lances through my left side, but I push it aside, forcing my mind to focus.

Sterile white walls swim before me, and I blink hard, willing the room to stop spinning, distorting, and twisting like a funhouse mirror. My chest heaves with each ragged breath, the movement sending jolts of pain through my left side where the bullet struck. A large figure looms over me from the right. Before the hand holding me down can retreat, I perceive the threat. Instinct takes over. With a strength born of pure adrenaline, Ilash out. My fist connects with solid flesh, and I hear a grunt of surprise and pain.

A gasp sounds near my left ear, it’s abrupt and feminine—surprised and fear-laced. I know it well.

“Don’t touch me. You'll lose the hand," I snarl, my voice raw but steady. On my left, the tinny sound of metal, more than one kind, clattering to the tile rings out. What are they doing to me?

The bodyguard, Rhys—he’s one of mine, stumbles back, his eyes wide with shock. “Dani, I. Your dressing,” he says, hands raised in a placating gesture. “You were fighting the nurse—”

"Save it," I cut him off, pushing myself up despite the protest from my wound. Angling my head left, an action which triggers a mountain of pain for a minuscule move, I spot a blonde in black medical scrubs, pale green eyes, lean build, holding her breath. She’s beautiful and afraid. Her eyes stray to Rhys. Silly woman, waiting for a savior. The Governor is a predator’s cave, a rest area. There’s no safety here for a damsel in distress. She should get out before it’s too late. Dismissed as a non-threat, I pin my guard with a stare. “Where's Xeno?”

As if summoned by his name, the door to the recovery room bursts open with a bang, startling everyone in the room. Xeno Voss, the man I took a bullet for, strides in, his face a mask of concern and barely contained fury. The sight of Xeno, alive and unharmed, sends a wave of relief washing over me. I sag back against the pillows, the fight draining out of me as quickly as it had come.

"Dani,” he breathes, relief evident in his voice.

Xeno’s gaze sweeps the room, taking in the scene before him. His jaw clenches as he notices Rhys's proximity to my bed, the red mark blooming on the bodyguard's jaw. His eyes dart between me and Rhys, narrowing dangerously. "What the fuck happened?”

"Just a miscommunication between me and my man here,” I say coolly, meeting Xeno’s intense gaze. “It’s handled.”

“Your man.” Xeno’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “You were screaming. He touch you?”

I sit taller, seeing this shit is about to spiral and touch down like a fucking tornado. “Nothing to it. The nurse needs to look at my wound.”

He turns to Rhys, his voice low and threatening. "Get out. Now. And don't let me find your ass back here.”

Rhys straightens, his professional demeanor slipping more than his actual reply. “Dani and I are friends. I’ll stay.”

One look at Xeno’s face, the way he narrows his eyes on Rhys, and I know the tornado is imminent. His nostrils flare, his eyes flashing with a possessive anger that thrills and terrifies me. Yes, I’d used Rhys’s body, and he’d used mine. The dalliance hadn’t lasted long. It certainly wasn’t worth disclosing to the pissed off male in our midst. Xeno steps to Rhys, pushing him against the wall, his thick forearm against his neck.

Oh shit. This fool is over-the-top jealous.

“Xeno, what the fuck,” I hiss, feeling helpless to intervene in an assless hospital gown. “Let him go.” He ignores me. The nurse flees the room. Seconds later, I heard a siren.

“Is that code, fucker?” Xeno snorts. Rhys clutches at the band of muscle, robbing him of vital oxygen. It’s no use. Xeno uses his mass, an unforgiving weight, ready to punish me for a grievance on my behalf. “You been up in her guts? Then you know not to fucking touch her.”

Boots coming in our direction clap a thunderous staccato that vibrates the rails, locking me in bed. “Don’t come in here,” I yell. “Stay where you are.”

“Dani.” It’s Youric’s voice, etched with concern. “I’m coming in.”

Xeno stiffens, and the pressure he applies to Rhys’s neck increases. Rhys’s tan skin is mottled a bluish-gray. It’s then that I realize how scared Xeno is for me. In his own fucked up way, he’s protecting me from further harm. If more men enter this room, he’ll view them as a threat. He’ll defend his perceived right to stay at my side. Damn, he must have been a wreck when I lost consciousness. For a man like Xeno to lose, even the hired help must’ve shaken his need to protect and defend.

“Don’t Youric. We’re okay.” I watch as the muscles along my protector’s back relax.

“You got five minutes,” he calls back.

All the time in the world. I understand anger, fear, and helplessness. Destructive emotions need an outlet. For people like me and Xeno, that outlet is physical, aggressive, and violent. I know how rage can drive a person to rip and claw at their skin just to feel a moment of release, even if it’s the blood in your veins.

“Xeno,” I whisper, careful to keep the discomfort and surprise from my voice. “Stop.” With one hand, I reach for him; the other has an intravenous line hooked to a hanging bag of fluid flowing into my arm. “I’m okay.”

He looks at me. Studying my eyes, the bandage wrapping my chest before disappearing over one shoulder. I nod, reassuring him that I’m telling him the truth. Slowly, he releases his grip on Rhys. The other man doubles over, coughing, his complexion ruddy as he sucks in huge gulps of air.

“Dani, he’s a psycho—get him—”

“Consequences,” Xeno interrupts.

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