Page 136 of Stolen Empire
The sound of a key in the lock pulls me from my thoughts.
Dimitri enters carrying two bags of food that fill the apartment with the smell of garlic and herbs.
He looks at me curled up on his couch wearing his shirt, and something in his expression softens.
"You showered," he says.
"I needed to wash off the warehouse."
I unfold myself from the couch and move to the kitchen.
"And I was getting tired of smelling like sweat."
He sets the bags on the counter and begins unpacking containers of food.
There's borscht and dark bread, roasted chicken with potatoes, pickled vegetables, and a container of honey cake that makes my mouth water just looking at it.
He moves around his kitchen, pulling out plates and silverware, pouring water into glasses.
I watch him work and feel something shift in my chest.
This isn't the dangerous man who stormed a warehouse and killed two people without blinking.
This is someone who knows how to take care of the people he loves even if he can’t say the words out loud.
We eat at his small dining table.
The food is rich and good, and I realize I’ve not eaten in days.
My body responds to the nourishment with a wave of exhaustion that makes my eyelids heavy.
Dimitri watches me push food around my plate and reaches across the table to cover my hand with his.
"You need to sleep more," he says.
"I just woke up a few hours ago."
"Your body is trying to heal. Let it."
He stands and clears our plates, then moves to where I sit and holds out his hand. "Come on."
I let him lead me back to the bedroom.
He sits me on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me, pulling the first aid kit from his nightstand.
His hands are steady as he cleans the cut below my cheek bone and applies a fresh bandage.
Then he tends my wrists with the same gentle fingers against my bruised skin.
"Does it hurt?" he asks.
"Everything hurts."
I watch his face as he works, studying the concentration in his eyes and the set of his jaw.
"But I'll survive."
"You'll more than survive."
