Page 123 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

My disappointment must show on my face because his expression softens slightly. "We'll have another ceremony later," he says. "Once the threat is eliminated, once it's safe. Something bigger and grander. Whatever you want. But tomorrow, we make it legal. We make it real."

I shudder at his words. Once the threat is eliminated. I don't need him to spell out what that means. I know how threats are eliminated in his world. With violence, blood, and death.

But as I study him, sitting there in the chair beside my bed, his hair messed up and his shirt wrinkled, his eyes dark with worry and determination, I realize something. I can't run away. Not like I'd thought I wanted to. Not like I'd been planning.

Because despite everything, Emil is a good man. He's protecting my brothers when he could have just as easily eliminated them as threats. He's worried about me, genuinely worried in a way that goes beyond just wanting to possess me or control me.

He cares. Maybe he doesn't know how to show it in normal ways, maybe his methods are extreme and his world is dark, but he cares. And that matters more than I want to admit.

"Okay," I hear myself say. "Tomorrow, then."

His eyes widen slightly, like he'd been expecting more of a fight. "Okay?"

"Yes. Okay." I settle back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off, leaving me drained and heavy.

We fall into silence, and I find my eyelids growing heavy. Emil is still talking, saying something about the ceremony and the security arrangements, but his voice is fading, becoming distant and soft. I try to focus on his words, to stay awake and engaged, but sleep is pulling at me with insistent fingers.

The last thing I'm aware of is Emil's voice, low and soothing, and the feeling of safety that comes from knowing he's there, watching over me.

When I wake up, the room is still dark, but there's a faint lightening at the edges of the curtains that suggests dawn isn't far off. I blink slowly, my eyes adjusting to the dimness.

Emil is asleep in the chair beside my bed, his head tilted back at an angle that's going to give him a terrible crick in his neck. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his breathing is deep and even. Even in sleep, there's a tension to his posture, like he's ready to wake at the slightest sound.

He stayed. All night, he stayed here, watching over me.

48

EMIL

My neck is killing me.

The thought registers before I'm fully awake, a dull ache that radiates from the base of my skull down between my shoulder blades. I shift in the chair, trying to work out the stiffness, and my eyes open to the dim light of early morning filtering through Kiera's curtains.

She's still asleep. Her breathing is deep and even, her face relaxed in a way I rarely see when she's awake. The tension that usually tightens her features is gone, leaving her looking younger, more vulnerable. One hand is curled beneath her cheek, the other resting on top of the comforter.

I watch her for a moment longer than necessary, taking in the rise and fall of her chest and the way her red hair fans across the pillow. She looks peaceful and safe. That's what matters.

Carefully, I push myself out of the chair, my muscles protesting the movement. I've slept in worse positions and places, but that doesn't make this any more comfortable. I roll my shoulders, trying to work out the knots, and move quietly to the bed.

The comforter has slipped down during the night, exposing her shoulders to the cool air of the room. I reach down and pull it back up, tucking it gently around her. She doesn't stir, doesn't even shift in her sleep. Good. She needs the rest after everything that happened last night.

I stand there for another moment, looking down at her, and my chest squeezes, almost painfully. I place a hand over the offended area and take a deep breath. Then I turn and leave the room, closing the door behind me with barely a sound.

The hallway is quiet, the estate still mostly asleep at this early hour. A few staff members are already moving about, preparing for the day, but they keep their distance when they see me. They know better than to approach the Pakhan before he's had his coffee.

But coffee will have to wait. First, I need answers.

I find the doctor in his quarters, a small suite of rooms on the first floor that serves as both his living space and a makeshift clinic. He's already awake, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, reading something on his tablet. He looks up when I knock, his expression shifting from surprise to professional concern.

"Pakhan," he says, standing. "I wasn't expecting you so early."

"I want those tests run on Kiera," I say without preamble. "Right away. I need to know what caused her to faint last night."

The doctor nods, setting his tablet aside. "Of course. I can run a full panel this morning. Blood work, vitals, everything. But from my preliminary examination last night, she seemed fine. Her pulse was strong, her breathing normal. It's likely she was just overwhelmed by stress and hadn't eaten properly."

"I don't care what's likely," I say, my voice harder than I intend. "I want to know for certain. Run every test you can think of. And I want the results immediately."

He doesn't flinch at my tone. He's been with me long enough to know me and my moods. "Understood. I'll have everything ready within a few hours."