Page 144 of Sins of a King
He kissed me quickly before scooting off the bed. “Get some rest.”
A slight tap on my bedroom door roused me from a doze. Sasha stood in the doorway, carrying my dinner tray. His face was devoid of all emotion, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling.
He set the tray on my bedside table and sat in the chair Dolinsky had occupied. “How are you feeling?” His gaze strayed to my throat. I hadn’t looked in a mirror, so I had no way of knowing how ugly and terrible the bruises were.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. It was painful to speak, but I pushed through the ache anyway. “Apparently, I have you to thank for my life.”
Color splashed across Sasha’s high cheeks in what I assumed was embarrassment. “How could he? I thought I knew him.”
I was wrong. It was anger.
“We all have our breaking points.”
“How can you be so calm? You almost died. I’m used to this life, the death, but you…”
“I’m not so delicate,” I assured him. I moved closer to the edge of the bed so that I could grip his hand. “Sasha, I cannot thank you enough for saving my life, for protecting me, for choosing me over Vlad who you have known a lot longer and at some point trusted. Today, you didn’t just become my savior—you became my friend.”
He squeezed my hand. “I asked Igor if I could be your main bodyguard.”
“I would like that very much.” I dropped his hand and reached for my bowl of broth. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel knowing Vlad is going to die?”
Sasha rubbed a finger down his stubbly jaw. “You’re blunt.”
I shrugged and took a sip of broth. It was delicious and soothing to my battered throat.
“Vlad proved he is unstable. Unstable means untrustworthy.”
“Didn’t answer my question.”
He sighed. “No point being upset about what’s going to happen. It won’t change anything.”
“Again, you didn’t answer my question.” I bit my lip. “Did he…confess why he tried to kill me?”
“No. He hasn’t said anything since I pulled him off you.”
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“Handcuffed in the garden shed behind the mansion.”
I set aside my near empty bowl of broth and threw back the covers. My pajama top covered me to the middle of my thighs.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, keeping his eyes on my face.
“Getting dressed.”
“Why?”
I didn’t answer as I headed to my walk-in closet. I found a pair of black jeans and a black V-neck sweater. After sliding on a pair of black suede boots that molded to my calves, I looked over my shoulder at him.
“Will you please get Igor?”
Closing his eyes for a moment before opening them, looking at a loss, he finally nodded. He left and I headed into the bathroom. I stared at myself a moment, taking in the necklace of bruises. They were dark, purplish, and I had no intention of hiding them. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, and just as I was dabbing my cheeks dry with a hand towel, Dolinsky appeared in the doorway of the bathroom.
“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked, his gaze trained on my neck.
