Page 80 of Eternal
“You’re hurt.” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was angry.
“Yeah. Nothing to worry about,” I scoffed, trying to brush off the weird tension. “You’d think a man twice my size would put up a better fight than this, guess he couldn’t do more than a little scratch on my cheek and one on my arm.” and another one that is still hurting and needs care.
Damir didn’t respond immediately, but I saw his grip tighten on the wheel, his jaw visibly clenching.
Was he mad I got injured? Is he stupid? Why would he be?
He shouldn’t be worried about a scratch. I’ve had worse, hell, I’ve had deeper cuts and bruises from my training days.
He knew that before even starting to work with me, right?
He should’ve expected the blood and pain.
But the truth was, I didn’t want him to care, I didn’t want him to be here, with his damn concern, his damn touch. Not because I didn’t like him, but because liking people in my life was a luxury I could never afford.
Ahead, the faint outline of headlights caught my attention, I squinted and realized we were approaching an intersection.
There, standing on the empty street, were Nikolai’s men.
Damir didn’t hesitate, pulling the car to a stop, his eyes flicked to mine, and he said, “Stay here. Don’t move.”
Is he forcing me to stay in the car?
“I can walk.”
“Shut up,” he snapped, and before I could react, he hit the button, locking the car doors.
I glared at him, as I pulled the handle, trying to get out. “Open the fucking car, you idiot!”
He didn’t even look at me, his expression was cold, focused on the men ahead as he stepped out of the car. “I won't be long.”
I sighed, pounding on the window in frustration. “Damir, seriously!” But he was already moving toward the group of men.
Idiot.
Fucking idiot, controlling weird man.
God, the man was impossible to ignore, no matter how much I told myself he wasn’t my problem, my eyes stayed glued to him. His shoulders, his stupid confidence, and the memories of his touch on my skin, it was all infuriating.
I slumped back into the seat, crossing my arms. Pain flared in my side as the movement tugged at my injury, and I hissed under my breath. “Fuck…” I bit down a grimace and adjusted in the seat, leaning my head back.
I shouldn’t be moving so much.
My eyes drifted to him again, he stood there, calm, talking to the group like he had all the time in the world, the bastard.
There was nothing wrong, nothing at all. He wasn’t in danger, I wasn’t in danger, everything was fine. And yet, I couldn’t stop watching him. But why? Is that normal? Am I feverish? Maybe dying?
Focus on something else. Anything else.
But my traitorous eyes wandered back to him, drawn in like they had a mind of their own. Maybe it was the way he talked to me or the fact that I knew he didn’t care if I was watching him or worse, it was because he liked having my eyes on him, that somehow made me blush for no reason.
He turned slightly, his profile catching the moonlight, and my stomach did this weird little flip. What is it? Maybe my wound is getting infected.
I need to get a grip, he’s an ass, a creepy, impossible-to-ignore ass.
The last thing I needed was to get caught up in some pointless attraction, my life was too messy for that.
The exchange seemed to stretch on, the minutes feeling longer than they should, and then, finally, the door opened.
