“Fuck you and him!” She kicks him in the leg, then stomps in the direction she came from.
Then she turns around and points a finger at me, then at her red wrist. “You’re gonna pay for this, you stupid motherfucker!”
Then she’s out.
That little—
I’m about to give the psycho a piece of my mind when Kirill steps in front of me and, as if sensing my thoughts, he shakes his head. “She’s mentally unwell. Don’t mind her.”
“Did you forget the part where she was trying to kill you? If she’s mentally unwell, maybe she should be admitted to a psych ward.”
“She’s not violent…except for the incident just now.”
“No shit.”
I inspect the cut on his arm, and my hands get soaked with blood. It’s a huge gash that slashes through some of his tattoos. “This will definitely need stitches. If you could remove me so easily, you could’ve blocked her attack, too.”
“I could’ve, huh?”
“You totally could, but you chose not to. Why?”
“She needed to get that one in, or her anger wouldn’t have subsided.”
“You’re really…weird.”
“Makes two of us.”
I clear my throat. “Is there a doctor in this place? There must be with all the houses and departments. Can’t you ask him to look at this—”
My words are cut off when a warm finger traces the pale skin near the pulse point of my throat. He’s stroking the injury, I realize. “Next time, when something like this happens, do not, under any circumstances, put your life in jeopardy for me.”
I try to swallow, but it’s stuck, just like my breathing. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do as a bodyguard?”
“No. There are always better solutions that don’t include being a martyr.”
“I…wasn’t trying to be one.”
“Really, now?”
My lips part, and my train of thought flies out the window because his finger has moved up. He’s fully exploring my throat now, tracing, touching, and leaving an inferno of goosebumps in his wake.
I can’t for the life of me focus on anything other than his sensually dark touch. The feel of his skin on mine is forbidden yet so addictive. So raw. So…wrong.
“You were ready to allow yourself to be stabbed in the same shoulder that’s injured because you were playing the martyr. That business won’t happen again, am I understood?”
“No.”
“No?” The edge in his voice would send anyone running, including me, but I have to put my foot down about this.
“I don’t understand how Viktor and the others claim to be your guards while allowing your so-called family members to attack you. Whatever the reason, I’m not like them. You hired me to be your bodyguard, and I intend to do my job to the fullest.”
“Sasha…” It’s a warning laced with an unspoken threat. His icy eyes shimmer with the hint of danger that’s part of who he is.
He’s a cold, emotionless man who doesn’t seem to care about the danger he brought on himself the moment he stepped foot in his house.
No wonder he chose freezing Russia over this.
He might be emotionless, but I’m not. Kirill has saved my life more than once, and I’m simply not going to stand by when his own life is in danger.