"It's not creepy when they've spent a month teetering between life and death," came his rumbled response.
I cracked one eye open to find Nicolai exactly where I expected—sprawled in that poor leather armchair that had become his second home.
His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his usually immaculate appearance showing small signs of disorder that, on anyone else, would be unremarkable. On the always impeccable crime boss, they were practically a declaration of emotional crisis.
My heart did a stupid little flip that I immediately squashed.
His penthouse bedroom was all dark woods, leather, and masculine elegance—like the man himself. The morning sun filtered through partially drawn curtains, casting strips of light across the Persian rug and illuminating the edges of the fortress of medical equipment that still surrounded the bed.
Less equipment than yesterday, at least.
Progress.
"I'm not dying now, so you can stop the vampire impression," I said, pushing myself up against the pillows. My arms trembled with the effort, but I'd be damned if I'd let him see how weak I still was.
Too late. Nothing escaped those predatory eyes.
"You've improved," he acknowledged, rising from the chair with fluid grace that belied his massive size. "But you're still pushing too hard."
"Says the man who took three bullets and still closed a business deal before seeking medical attention."
"That was different."
"Right. Because you're an immortal bear god and I'm just a fragile human."
My fingers twitched with frustration, a spark of green energy dancing between them. The bedside lamp flickered in response and Nicolai's eyes narrowed.
"Control,malysh," he said softly.
I hated that the endearment sent warmth spreading through my chest. I hated even more that he was right—my abilities were still unpredictable after overextending them so dramatically.
"I'm fine," I insisted, throwing back the covers. "And I need to use the bathroom. Like a big boy. Without an audience."
My legs felt like they were made of overcooked pasta as I swung them over the edge of the bed. The cold marble floor sent a shock up my bare feet, but I welcomed the sensation. Anything was better than the numbness of the coma.
Nicolai moved closer, hovering just within arm's reach. His presence filled the room, making the massive bedroom feel suddenly small. I could smell his cologne—something expensive and subtle that probably cost more than my first car.
Not that I'd ever owned a car. Hard to maintain vehicle registration when you're constantly running from people who want to exploit your abilities.
"You barely made it to the door yesterday," he reminded me, his voice deceptively casual.
"Yesterday I was weaker," I shot back, bracing my hands against the mattress. "Today I'm stronger."
"You've been awake for less than ten minutes. You haven't even eaten."
As if on cue, my stomach growled, betraying me completely.
"Traitor," I muttered at my midsection.
The corner of Nicolai's mouth twitched upward—that almost-smile that did unreasonable things to my insides.
"Yuri is bringing breakfast," he said, moving to adjust my pillows as though I were about to lie back down.
Fat chance.
"Great. I'll eat after I pee like a normal human being."
I pushed off from the bed, legs shaking but holding. Victory surged through me for the three glorious seconds before my knees started to buckle.
