Blunt white teeth bit into her bottom lip. Her eyes narrowed and Gunnar read her intense body language. It warned she just might start swinging if anything threatened her patient. His throat constricted at the truth of the situation. He was the patient. She was the nurse. And never shall the twain meet.
“Spouting off poetry; that’s new.” Tray’s eyebrows narrowed with scrutiny.
“Rather call it being philosophical.” Gunnar inhaled roughly. Not feeling anything was beginning to get hinky. He couldn’t feel his chest expand or the rough sheets against his skin. “Get your hand off me, Komar.” The fun and games were over. He needed to feel something again, like his pinky toes and heart beating.
Nadia reached up to her throat and dabbed her fingertip at his bite mark. She pulled the fall of her hair forward and veiled the small bruise. Gunnar closed his eyes, hiding his disappointment and frustration.
“You done?” Tray sounded authoritative and unwavering.
Gunnar weighed his options. First, he could remain immobile and lob telepathic insults at his boss, or he could save face, cage the inner beast and regain sensation. Being able to move tipped the scale in favor of option two.
“Evet efendim.” Gunnar chose the most formal affirmative response to Traian’s question. He did it out of respect to his boss. Yet, deep down, Gunnar fought the inborn nature clawing for supremacy, even though he had no right to act so damned territorial. Tray had saved him from his own stupidity. Gunnar would never be able to forgive himself if he’d forced an irrevocable bond with Nadia. He had firsthand experience with the result of such involuntary connections. The childhood trauma had tainted his memories. He’d never forget witnessing the way his mother endured the years tied to her mate, Gunnar’s father.
Slavery came in many different walks of life. Love played no part in the way his people became bound. It was simply biological. She never wanted Gunnar to forget the trials she’d been conscripted to suffer.
Every year on his birthday, she’d pull him into her lap, cup his chin and make him listen. He could still see her in his mind’s eye. Long golden hair spilled down her back. Eyes so very like his were flat and emotionless. Her thin frame bore the terrible story of her life with scars decorating her pale skin. The familiar lump formed in his throat, always choking him up because he could never do anything to free her. She’d recount the time when she was a teen and the horror of being stolen from her village by marauders. Hauled away to a boat, she’d been subjected to horrific abuses. Soon, they tired of her and dumped her at the nearest port in the northern end of the Black Sea. There, Gunnar’s father purchased her.
A barbarian, his father expected subservience. In the time before the sacred berry forever altered the villagers, the man treated Kitta like the lowest creature. When he survived the initial ravaging of the fruit, he found perverse pleasure in making her ingest it as well. She survived the altering of her genetic make-up and soon after he forced her to take his blood. When she tolerated taking his essence, he made sure she’d be tied to him forever by completing the connection. Like the lowest son of a bitch, he held her down, drank from her vein, and raped her. After that, nothing could sever their symbiosis. Just thinking about it made Gunnar’s skin crawl. That sense of powerlessness washed over him, twisting his guts with regret.
He wished he could’ve helped his mother, but even before his birth, biology had taken over and nothing could dissolve the bond. Gunnar had come decades later. Throughout his youth, he witnessed the brutality of a monster rained down upon his mother. Gunnar had wrapped his rage around him like a security blanket, insulating himself with fury and resentment. Little good it did him. As a youngling, he’d had no choice but to witness it. He couldn’t even help her escape. The meager attempts at securing her freedom ended poorly. It was futile.
And when he realized that he, too, would end up as the same monster, some of the hatred he reserved for his sire stained his own heart.
He was the product of violence. All he needed to do was look in his mother’s eyes and see the revulsion there. She despised her mate and she despised Gunnar because the Kan Asma genes from his father had dominated, ensuring his offspring would be male and preternatural. Though the babe she carried was born with blonde hair and fair skin, the strong genetics of a barbarian marked his features. He was his father’s son.
Now, power coursed through his veins but anguish still beat in his heart. His beloved mother suffered until she took her last breath. He’d been made to stand guard so no one could interfere. The heavy sword he’d held in clammy hands had burned his muscles as he waited for her self-inflicted wounds to claim her life. It was the ultimate check mate. Once she succumbed, Gunnar’s father was forced to follow her through a torturous process of physical agony. Gunnar beheld his mother’s final triumph while watching his father thrash upon the floor of their home, screaming as the pain engulfed him and snuffed out his life.
Gunnar swallowed the bile scorching the back of his throat. He couldn’t feel his heart but could tell it beat a frantic cadence—a mix of fear and anxiety. Opening his eyes, he latched onto the sight of Nadia standing there beside him like a warrior maiden, furious and protective. A little part of him longed for her to want him the way he’d so desired her. The taste of paradise surged through her veins. It was a bounty he could never have. Thank God Tray had arrived when he did. His boss had saved him from repeating history, from chaining Nadia to him permanently.
“Don’t beat yourself up, kardes. You were almost blown up yesterday. You’re allowed a modicum of leeway.”
“I thought your brother was the only one rude enough to invade someone’s mind.” Gunnar wanted to snarl or swear or, hell, speak out loud. “Fucking release me,” he shouted in Tray’s thoughts.
Like a wave rolling into the beach, a shimmering of foam and cool water, sensation ebbed through his limbs and torso. He opened his mouth and tilted his head. The dull ache in his wounded arm was a welcomed distraction and a reminder of his present situation. He wouldn’t be jumping out of the bed anytime soon. Even if he wanted to punch his boss in the face, repeatedly, it would have to wait.
He reached out to Nadia with his uninjured arm. The warmth of her skin brushed his palm as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. A warm current passed between them at the point of contact and the flesh along his palm tingled. When she looked at him, his lungs seized. She felt it, too. Longing brightened her eyes and her cheeks flushed with heat. A dull ache set up shop above his fangs. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say while hiding his sharp canines.
“For what? Instinct?” She stepped back and he released his hold. Damn it! He couldn’t even touch her anymore.
What was he sorry for exactly? Almost biting her? Begging for her to join him in his hospital bed? Wanting her beyond sanity? Yeah, all the above, but he had no intent to say those things out loud. He cleared his throat. Twice. “For stepping across the line.” He exhaled bit by bit. “Figuratively, of course.”
The side of her mouth kicked up with a lopsided grin. “For you, Gunnar, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
With a little tug on the hem of her shirt, she checked him over from head to foot. In an instant, her inspection had turned professional. The nurse surveyed her patient now. The deep scrutiny from an interested lady would usually encourage him to show off his attributes. Instead, the distinct urge to hide his wounds and therefore, his apparent weakness, prodded him to pull the covers to the middle of his chest. He settled back on the pillow and stared at the far wall.
“You look much better.”
“Thanks,” he bit out. He’d never been a cocky son of a bitch about his looks, like Mikhail, but Gunnar knew full well that his typical good looks had turned to crap. Several things needed to happen to return him to a normal state, like brushing his teeth and scrubbing his body with a Brillo pad.
“I’m sure you’ll be discharged soon. Dominic will be happy with your progress.” Her words almost sounded like a final goodbye.<
br />
“Will you come and see me off?” Gunnar would take any chance he had to see her before they parted ways.
“I don’t know.” A fake smile showed her perfect straight teeth. Oh, she knew all right. She was not going to come and wheel his ass out of there.
“Thank you, Nadia…for everything.” There must be something more he could say to her than a wooden declaration of gratitude. He pushed to sit up, ignoring the sheet as it settled on his lap. “I promise there won’t be any repercussions for what I asked you to do. If you ever need anything, call me.”
She nodded once and glanced at Traian with a meaningful stare. “Take care of him. He’s been through hell.”
“It’s not the first time,” Tray retorted with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. He rocked onto the balls of his feet. “I’m sure you’re a better nurse than I am. I don’t have the best bedside manner.”
“That’s the truth.” Gunnar rejoined in full agreement.
Nadia glared at Tray. In any other venue, the social chasm between them wouldn’t allow for her to do something so bold. Tray possessed great power and status, which gave him the right to put Nadia in her place in whatever way he wanted. Gunnar tensed, his focus set on his boss’ countenance. Even the slightest motion aimed at harming Nadia would enrage him. Injured or not, Gunnar planned to intervene.
Tray crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. “You’re daring, female.” He sounded impressed instead of threatening. Gunnar relaxed a bit. “I’m not promising chicken noodle soup or pillow fluffing, but he’ll get good care. I need him recuperated and back at work ASAP. We’ve got unfinished business to deal with.”
Understatement of the year, Gunnar hid his frustration as his to-do list continued to get longer by the hour.
“I’ll leave you to your work.” Nadia glanced over her shoulder and stared at him. The fire in her eyes had banked and resolve lined her features, hiding her emotion from him. “Take care, Mister Nakani.” Before he could reply, she strode over and retrieved her purse then exited the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click. To Gunnar, it sounded like a loud gong signaling the end of their temporary link.
Time to get back to the status quo.
“Thanks for not dying.” Tray dragged the chair from the corner and set it beside the bed.
“Yeah, I survived just for you.” Gunnar blew out a tense breath. Exhaustion still tugged at him and he suspected he could blame that on his rapid healing. Or maybe disappointment. Either way, he had to get the fuck over it.
“Kartal came for a little visit yesterday.” Gunnar made a disgusted face. “And, I’m gutted that you didn’t even bother to send balloons.”
Tray surveyed the room. “I see asshole brother forgot the get-well-soon bouquet.”
“And compassion, sympathy, feelings…” Gunnar rolled his eyes. ”Being related to a royal bastard is no cake-walk. You’ve got a tough situation.”
A fierce glint lit up in Tray’s green eyes. “As long as Komutani keeps his blood-oath ensuring my Bethany is safe from Ivan’s tyrannical bullshit, things are copacetic. The minute she’s threatened, I’m going for blood, family or not. She’s my reason to live, and that trumps any biological tie to him. Always.”
With Nadia in his bed earlier, Gunnar had a brief taste of the inherent devotion of a bonded male. He understood Tray’s promise and would extend his protection to his boss’ mate as soon as he got his ass out of the hospital and back to work.
“Congratulations, by the way.” Gunnar hadn’t predicted Tray’s straight up fuck you to the Kan Asma’s mating rites. He’d seen the attraction his boss had for the human woman and aided them in their romantic affair.
“Thank you.” Tray scrubbed a hand over his face. “Wish it hadn’t been so damned complicated.”
A few weeks ago, when he’d met Bethany, Gunnar had witnessed firsthand how smitten Tray became with her. “It’s forever, now. At least you are in love.” Gunnar understood the complications surrounding Tray’s mating. His boss never intended on making Bethany his blood-mate. His obsession for her caused a severe lapse of sanity and on accident, he’d bitten her. Because of Bethany’s half-breed genetics, once Tray’s serum hit her bloodstream it became toxic. In order to save her, Tray had no choice but to complete the entire mating bond. Tray broke the very tenets of their culture to claim her for his own and faced banishment.
“She’s my life. I couldn’t give her up.”
Gunnar wouldn’t think of doing the same thing with Nadia. Their relationship had no path to tread, no road to travel, only a dead end. Someday, she’d be forced into the blood-rites and find her life-mate. And Gunnar would sit there trying not to give into the urge to kill the unsuspecting male for taking her away from him. Righteous anger twisted inside him as he thought about losing Nadia forever.
“Earth to Nakani.” Tray shook the hospital bed trying to make Gunnar focus.
It worked.
Gunnar hit the side panel control and moved the head of the bed into a sitting position. He made a great show of tucking the sheet around his waist. “What?”
“You didn’t let on about our dealings in Russia?” Apprehension laced Tray’s words.
Licking his dry lips, he retrieved the water pitcher on the side table and filled the cup. He drank several gulps, ignoring the distinct plastic taste and set the cup aside. “Mikhail suspects something. Deflecting his intrusions is getting harder by the day. He’s got the mental prowess of a crowbar.”
“I’m not worried about Mik. He won’t to do anything stupid.” Tray made a fist and his knuckles cracked. “I can’t afford Aleksi getting any hint of our activities. He’ll toss Council rules and conventions in my way and I don’t want anyone or anything stopping me from finding them.” He rubbed his palm against his chest. His black, long-sleeved button up hid nasty scars. Gunnar had seen the marks, knew how almost thirty years ago Tray’d been tortured beyond sanity.
“We’ll find ’em, boss,” Gunnar promised.
“Yes, we will.” Tray propped his elbows on his thighs and steepled his fingers. “Now, about the bitch who torched my place…”
Flashes of the explosion replayed in his mind and Gunnar clenched his jaw hating how fricking scared he’d been when the place blew up. A fireball engulfed the room he’d just entered. Heat had singed his skin. Debris had slammed into his body. No doubt, he’d be reliving those endless seconds many times over. He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to take even slow breaths. “Aleksi charged Mikhail with the task of finding Tory and taking her in for questioning by Sevastian.”
Tray nodded. “My cousin will use his híbe to mine her thoughts and emotional memories. Nothing will be left a secret. At least, we’ll know her motive. Though, she’s so shallow, I’d believe jealousy could be enough for her to attempt murder.”
Less than a month ago, Gunnar intervened when Tray’s former Adak, Tory, tracked him down while he wined and dined Bethany. Tory became incensed and Gunnar hauled her away from the restaurant. She wasted no time raining curses down upon Gunnar. She kicked and screamed drawing the gawkers to watch the show unfold. Her threats of revenge didn’t register beyond spite. He never once imagined she’d go through with any of the retaliation. Now, they needed to pick up the pieces of her mess. Since no one knew her whereabouts, they were forced into a defensive position. It dawned on Gunnar that his boss required his service more now than before. Anxious to get the hell out of the hospital, he pushed to sit up all the way. Ignoring the rush to his head and the dizziness, he swung his legs over the side and dropped his heavy braced arm into his lap. He met Tray’s grave stare. “While Tory’s out there, your female isn’t safe. Neither are you.”
Tray’s expression was a mix of rage and aggression. “That’s why we’re keeping the details of our location quiet. I’ll text you the address to her house in Valencia. Only my parents and Mikhail know we’re staying there.”
Gunnar glanced around the small room. He had no
belongings, nothing to indicate that his phone had survived the impact of the explosive. “Might have to take a rain check on that text until I know if I have a working Droid.”
A tight grip squeezed his good shoulder. Tray leaned in close. “I need you back on the job. Do what you can in order to get out of here fast.”
With a sharp nod, Gunnar agreed. Though, his efficiency at his occupation might be a bit hampered by the bionic device on his arm. Good thing he had other skills to compensate with.
The legs of the chair scraped against the linoleum floor with a piercing squeak as Tray pushed it back. He stood to his full height in one fluid move. A chunk of his hair fell forward onto his forehead and Gunnar noticed the creases there. Lines of stress altered his features. Tension in his jaw and exhaustion shadowed his normal laidback demeanor. His boss was stressed to the max. “I’ll do what I can.”
With a shake of his head, Tray’s chest expanded on a deep breath. “Stay away from the nurse. That’s a direct order.”
What did his boss want? An “Aye aye, Captain” followed by a military salute? Getting discharged and heading home sounded like the best plan. In theory, eviscerating Nadia from his thoughts seemed simple—just don’t think about her. Except, he’d have to throw himself into his work and keep himself busy twenty-four seven, otherwise, not thinking about her was going to be completely impossible.
“It’s not for your benefit, Gunnar. But hers.” A flash of compassion in Tray’s eyes vanished on a blink. “I don’t need complications getting in the way of our work, either.”
In a deliberate move, Gunnar depressed the control button on the bed, lowering it. “I better get some rest and recuperate fast. My boss isn’t into sick leave.” Yup, he used the pissy tone on purpose. Tray forbidding him to see Nadia bordered on the hypocritical.
Mated in Treason Page 6