Page 86 of Cruel Russian King
The door opened, and the doctor, a tall, slender man with grey hair stepped in, his expression unreadable. My heart beat quickened as everyone shot to their feet.
“Mr. Rykov made it through surgery,” he said, and I bit back a sob and Lev's arm tightened around my waist. “The bullets missed his spine but one of his lungs was clipped. We removed the bullets, and repaired the damage. He's stable now.”
I clutched the sonogram tighter against my chest.
“He’ll need to stay here for a few days while we monitor him,” the doctor continued. “If there are no complications…no infection, no issues with his breathing…he should be able to go home within a week. After that, it’s rest, no heavy lifting, and follow-ups.”
“Can we see him?” I asked, my voice strained.
“I can allow a five-minute visit. He needs to rest and recover. I hope you understand,” the doctor said.
I nodded.
“Follow me.”
Lev released me, and I walked over to Kira, taking her hand. Tears slid down her cheeks as she squeezed mine. Together, we followed the doctor to Artyom’s room.
Inside, Artyom lay on the bed, slightly elevated. His torso was bandaged, the sheet pulled up to his waist. An oximeter clamped his finger, electrotabs dotted his chest, and an IV dripped steadily into one hand.
Kira and I moved closer. Her fingers slipped from mine as she went to the other side of the bed.
She squeezed his hand gently, and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Artyom…I know you probably can’t hear me, but I hope you do. I love you. Because of who you are, and what you do, the rest of us survived our world. Thank you.” She kissed him once more on the cheek and slipped quietly from the room.
I traced a finger along his cheek, thankful that it was now warm to the touch. “Thank you…for fighting to stay alive for us.”
I pressed my lips to his gently and sighed. Knowing that he'd be okay did little to ease the knot in my chest. I wanted to see those intense grey eyes of his.
Sliding into the chair beside the bed, I held his hand, resting my head on his thigh, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. And that’s the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.
Over the next three days, Artyom stayed heavily sedated. The entire floor was evacuated, his men stationed with high-powered rifles, Ruslan standing guard at the door. Other guards stationed outside the perimeter of the hospital.
I refused to leave. Yegor had them bring in another bed and pushed the two together so I could sleep next to him. Kira went home and brought my clothes. Food was dropped off morning, noon, and night, but I hardly touched it. Besides my brothers checking in on me, so did his. And Vera and Katya showed up, crying quietly. Mariya reminded me that the baby needed nutrition to be healthy. And I needed to be strong for them both.
No nurse was allowed to sponge bathe him. Even unconscious, his cock responded under my touch, making my pussy throb for him. His responses were for me…no one else.
I called Kolya and made sure the camera in Artyom’s room was disabled. I craved the feel of my husband's body next to mine. For the past three nights, I slept naked next to him, a blanket covering us.
Ruslan controlled access to the room, letting no one enter until he called me and got the all-clear.
Every night I cried, pressing myself to him, tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his shoulders.
On the fourth day, I woke to his hand pressed against my ass. My breath hitched. When I looked up, his grey eyes were dark and intense. I couldn't resist him when he looked at me like that. I reached up, kissed him, and moaned as he gently kissed me back.
I got dressed quickly and called for the doctor.
Over the next five days, he grew stronger: lifting his head without help, speaking in quiet gruff tones when his siblings visited. Kolya and Konstantin even stopped by to check on him.
When he finally left the hospital, a doctor's were hired to be the around the clock just in case anything happened
Now, a month had passed and we were in our bed, naked, unshielded by blankets. I needed to see every inch of him, and I wanted him to see all of me. His fingers trailed down my spine as my head rested against his shoulder, and even though we couldn't have sex yet we were just content with being in each other's arms.
“Printsessa…” he whispered.
I looked up at him. His grey eyes were dark and intense. I shifted until we were eye to eye.
“Is something wrong? Do you need something?”
