Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
In that moment where he could’ve died, Yulian’s first thought wasn’t to get out of the way, it was to push me away.
And I don’t like how fucking conflicted that makes me feel.
Yulian Dimitriev has been a complication of epic proportions since the first time he smudged me with blood.
Literally.
“I’m used to being in danger.” Yulian lifts a shoulder. “If they find us, you should go.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“You have a better chance at survival. Take the rifle and shoot everywhere until you get to the camp or find a phone and call for help.”
“I said no, Yulian. That’s not how I repay my savior. Now, stop yapping.”
“Rude.” His lips push forward, but he’s smiling faintly. “I don’t yap; I entertain. If I didn’t have this pesky hole in my side, I’d be singing and dancing. I have killer moves, but don’t ask Cy for reviews. He’s a hater…”
“Yulian?”
His lids are growing heavy. “I’ll just take a power nap…”
“No, no…” I slap both his cheeks. “You need to remain awake. Keep talking, okay? I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”
“Ha…look how fast the tide changes, almighty Mishka wants to hear me talk after calling me a yapper…”
“Yeah, so open your eyes.” I grab his hair, shoving his head back as I stare down at him. “You are not going to die here, Yulian. I’m with you… I’m with you. Do you hear me?”
“Hmm.” His lips twitch as he stares up at me through heavy lids. One of his hands reaches up to my T-shirt, but falls back down before he touches me as he groans, “I’m so fucked.”
“I know, but I’ll help you, all right?”
“You’ll be with me?” He sounds lethargic, but he’s blinking rapidly trying to stay awake.
“Yeah.”
“Да (da)?”
“Да (da),” I repeat. “I keep my word. Yes means yes, Yulian.”
“Say it again.”
“Say what again?”
“That you’re with me.”
“Я с тобой (Ya s toboy).” I say it in Russian.
A grin curves his lips, looking wild, a bit disturbing, actually, especially with his mismatched eyes gazing so deeply into me that I think they’ll cut my face open. “I’ll hold you accountable for that, Mishka.”
6
YULIAN
So there’s this really huge, big-deal type of shit that’s going on right now, and it’s about the worst time it could happen.
I think I died and then came back to life.
Don’t ask how. Just know that when Vaughn was doing his theory shit with scissors, rummaging around in my goddamn insides and trying to get the bullet, I contemplated biting my tongue and going to be with the angels.
Or demons.
Probably demons.
Definitely demons.
At any rate, he got the bullet out after a lot of fucking pain that made me nearly lose consciousness.
Actually, I did, because when I woke up, I found my head tilted back against the stone while he continued sitting in front of me, stitching up the wound.
That’s what woke me up—the feel of a fucking needle sewing my skin.
Let’s make one thing clear—judging by all the haphazard lines, this dude will not have a career in fucking haute couture.
But the thing is, Vaughn was also shaking. I thought it was me who was having all of his insides turned upside down with whatever kinky scissors shit he’s into, but his hands were visibly trembling as he put the bandage on my side.
He was breathing harshly, too, blowing out a large exhale every now and then to get himself under control again.
Guess no one signs up for seeing someone’s gory insides if they don’t dream of cutting people up a la butcher style.
That was a couple of hours ago.
Now, he’s much calmer and back to being a fucking delight—aka a boring little bitch—as he sits across from me with his knees bent.
The cave is too small—there’s so little distance between us that I can see the contours of his muscles beneath his shirt despite the relative lack of light. All for the best, really, because now that night has fallen, it’s cold as fuck in here.
What makes it worse is that we can’t start a fire, or it’ll give up our position.
Vaughn patrolled outside earlier and spotted a few men dressed in black searching the area, but there was no sign of our guards.
So he came back with some large evergreen boughs that he’s used to build a makeshift bed around me for support.
Since then, he’s been either pacing with his head bent low because the cave can’t contain him, or peeking outside, or sitting around and moping.
Oh, and checking on me.
I still feel like shit. My side burns like hell, I’m drenched with sweat one second, then trembling with cold the next, but the antibiotic shot he gave me helped. Definitely would’ve been much worse without it.
However, I’ve been keeping myself busy, because while Vaughn’s been doing his Vaughn shit—being a control freak—I’ve been watching him.