Page 99 of Lethal Devotion
"You’re his wife? You can go in," the nurse says gently. "Talk to him. Sometimes they can hear us, even when they're unconscious."
I slip into the room on unsteady legs, the sound of the machines beeping a steady rhythm that only serves to make my heartbeat feel more erratic. There's a chair beside the bed, and I sink into it, reaching out to touch his hand. His skin is warm, which somehow makes everything feel a little less terrifying.
"Hi," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I'm here. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. You can’t make me."
His fingers don't move, but I squeeze them anyway, hoping he can feel me.
"The doctors say you're going to be okay," I continue, tears making my voice thick. "You're too stubborn to die, right? That's what you'd say if you were awake. You'd probably growl at me for crying and tell me you've had worse."
I wipe my eyes with my free hand, but more tears just take their place. I feel like I haven’t cried enough over everything that’s happened. I needed to be strong for Adam. I wanted Damian to think I was tough enough to take it all and come back for more. But now, faced with him lying here helpless, taken down by some asshole’s bullet, I can’t seem to stop the steady flow of tears.
"I need you to wake up, Damian. I need you to wake up because I have things to say to you, and you're going to listen this time. No walking away, no shutting down. You're going to lie there and listen to every word."
I lean closer, bringing his hand to my cheek.
"You're such a fool," I whisper. "Such a stubborn, impossible fool. Do you really think I care that you're older than me? Do you think I care about your past, about the things you've done? You saved me, Damian. You saved me and Adam, and you've been protecting us ever since."
The machines continue their steady beeping, the only sound in the room besides my voice.
"You think you're not good enough for me, but you're wrong. You're everything I never knew I needed. You make me feel safe in a way I've never felt safe before. When you hold me, when you look at me like I'm something precious… God, Damian, don't you see what you do to me?"
I press a kiss to his knuckles, tasting salt from my own tears.
“And Adam… he’s never had anyone like you in his life. He’s never had a father to teach him how to dive, or be the big scary man who protects him, or had someone like you to look up to. He loves you, too. We both do. I don’t care that we can’t have more children, because Ihavea perfect, precious child, and he’d be yours too. Blooddoesn’t matter—who raises you does. And I know you’d be great at it.”
My voice breaks on the last word, and I have to take a shaky breath before I can continue.
"I have Adam, and if you'll let us, we can be a family. The three of us. Isn't that enough? Isn't that everything?"
I'm crying harder now, but I don't care. I need to get this out, need him to hear it.
"I know you love me," I whisper fiercely. "I know you do, even if you won't say it. I see it in the way you protect me, the way you touch me, even in the way you walk away, because you truly believe it’s what I need. But it isn’t." I lean down, pressing my forehead to his. “What I need is you.”
"You love me, and I love you. I love your strength and your rough edges. I love that you kill to protect the people you care about, and I love that you're gentle with me and with Adam. I love your tattoos and your scars and the way you make me feel like I'm the only woman in the world when you look at me, even if you don’t mean to."
The heart monitor next to me seems to skip a beat, and I look up hopefully, but his eyes remain closed.
"I love you, Damian Kutnezsov," I whisper against his skin. "I love you, and I'm not going anywhere. When you wake up—not if, when—we're going to figure this out together. No more running, no more pushing me away. You're going to have to accept that you deserve to be loved."
I settle back in the chair, keeping hold of his hand. The nurses come and go, checking his vitals, adjusting his IV. Konstantin stops by to check on Damian, to let me know that Giovanni Russo and his men are dead, to reassure me that Damian will wake up, but I barely hear any of it. My world has narrowed to this room, this bed, this man who holds my heart and doesn’t know it yet. He can’t die without knowing it. It’s not right.
That’s not how this ends.
Hours pass. The sun rises and sets outside the window, painting the room in shades of orange and pink. I doze fitfully in the chair, myhand never leaving his, waking every time a machine beeps differently or a nurse comes in.
It's nearly midnight, the following evening, when I feel it… the slightest pressure against my fingers. My eyes snap open, and I lean forward eagerly.
"Damian? Can you hear me?"
27
DAMIAN
The first thing I'm aware of is pain—a deep, burning ache in my chest that radiates through my ribs with every breath. The second thing is the steady beeping of machines, the antiseptic smell of a hospital, the scratchy feel of sheets against my skin. But the third thing, the thing that makes my heart stutter in my chest, is the soft pressure of fingers wrapped around mine.
I know those fingers. I've memorized the way they feel when they're tracing patterns on my skin or tangling in my hair when I'm buried deep inside her. But that can't be right. She can't be here. I walked away from her. I told her?—
My eyes flutter open, fighting against the heavy pull of whatever drugs they've got pumping through my system. The room is dim, lit only by the glow of monitors and the pale light filtering in from the hallway. And there, sitting in a chair beside my bed with her hand wrapped around mine, is Sienna.
