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“Because you thought that I didn’t care?”
“Elanee, it was none of those things,” he says quietly.
“Then what was it?” I demand, now furious. Layla knew, but I didn’t… and I can’t help but envy her for being his rock when I was simply this fragile little thing he was trying to keep intact. “I could’ve helped. I can help.”
“I know,” he says, cupping my face again, and this time I cling to it.
“Then why?” My voice cracks. Didn’t he trust me?
“I can have an operation for it. But…” He swallows. “I refused to do anything about it until I got you out.”
My heart is pounding, and I want to scream into an abyss. No. They can’t have Dmitri as well. But if there’s a cure… if it can be operated on…
He refused treatment because of me…
All this time, I had no idea.
“But it’ll make it worse, won’t it? I thought you weren’t getting any sleep.” My voice cracks.
How had he been putting me first this whole time, and I didn’t realize the magnitude of his sacrifice?
Tears spill over my cheeks. It’s not fair; they can’t have him, too. “You need to stop this. No fighting tomorrow. You go to the doctors now and—”
He kisses me and my train of thought is obliterated as his demanding presence pleads for me to give him everything. I can’t help but let him take and take as I kiss him back.
Hungry.
Deprived.
Scared.
My body rocks against his as I run my fingers through his hair, needing and wanting to touch all of him. I can’t help the dizziness it creates after days of not eating and drinking, but I ignore it. The only thing I need right now is Dmitri, but he pulls back.
I can feel his hard cock beneath me as I sit on his lap, and his expression has changed from that tormented anguish to the very possessive male that Dmitri oozes with.
“Don’t get any ideas; you haven’t eaten for days,” he says.
“And you have a tumor…” It doesn’t sound right coming from my lips, and that stark realization still isn’t setting in. But he’s quick to thread his fingers through my hair and pull my head back, so I have no choice but to simply look at him.
“Nothing will stop me from fucking you, Elanee. Even a tumor. The only thing that will is the fact that you need to eat,” he demands.
I side-eye him, and I can see what he’s doing, distracting me, turning my pain into pleasure as he always has. But this is different. “I’m scared, Dmitri,” I admit out loud for the first time. For he and I, both.
We were two completely fucked up people, and yet still, all I cared about was him.
“I know,” he says as he releases my hair slowly.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, brushing my fingers against his forehead at the hidden enemy.
He takes my hand and kisses the inside of my palm. “It started with headaches, but the other symptoms are more pronounced now.”
“Symptoms?” I ask, fear squeezing my chest. I think about when he stormed into the room. Is this what Layla meant when she said he wasn’t being himself?
He looks away as if not wanting to divulge further. But I force him to look at me. “Dmitri, you can’t keep me in the dark about this anymore.”
He swallows and nods. “The doctor advised I might begin to notice behavioral changes and aggressive outbursts. Numbness. Impaired vision and smell,” he begins to rattle off a list. “Memory loss. Lack of motivation. It’s quite an impressive list, really.”
I frown as he tries to joke it off, but suddenly remember small telltale signs. The medical book he’d been reading. At Lev, when he broke that guy’s hand and didn’t seem himself. He was constantly pinching the bridge of his nose, but I thought that was because he was tired. There had always been signs. Then, the most concerning one crashes into me and I take his hand. “Why did it look like your hand froze when you tried to touch me?”
