HIS PROTECTION
It was a scary moment when I realized I couldn't move my left side.
I tried to step forward, but my leg didn't respond. It was as if I had lost control of my entire left side. The sensation was terrifying and overwhelming, and I struggled to come to terms with what was happening to me.
Dante immediately noticed, sweeping me off my feet as he walked confidently out of what appeared to be a plane hangar to meet the medics coming out of the ambulance.
I leaned into him, smelling his neck. My heart skipped a beat when his familiar scent intoxicated my senses. Although we hadn't been apart that long, I couldn't believe how much I missed him. Clutching his collar, I placed a soft kiss on his warm skin.
He stiffened, stopping to look down at me. His eyes focused intently on me, and I could feel his gaze piercing me. It was as if something had caught his attention, causing him to pause and take notice. His expression was serious and intense.
For a moment, we stood there in silence, his gaze fixed on me before he finally spoke. "Don't be scared, cariño."
How could I be when I had the most protective man on earth looking out for me? That feeling of safety and security was unparalleled. I smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek this time.
For a moment, his expression softened and his hold on me tightened.
The paramedics were whispering among themselves in medical jargon, exchanging worried glances as they loaded me on a gurney before speeding toward the hospital.
Well, that didn't bode well for me, did it?
Laying face up on the gurney, my last memory was of me and Eva fighting for our lives as a couple of men dressed in black dragged us, kicking and screaming, out of her apartment. After that, we were shoved in a car and blindfolded.
What happened after that was a mystery.
Dante said there was a fight.
Were they trying to rescue me and Eva?
Was Eli helping them and had somehow gotten hurt in the process?
And who the hell had poisoned me?
I looked at Dante's pensive face. Heartbreak resonated in the depths of his hazel gaze. Under the bright lights in the ambulance, he seemed older, stress lines marring his forehead and corners of his lips.
As we zoomed down the highway, he kept his hand on my arm, tracing gentle circles with his fingers. It was the arm I couldn't feel, but that didn't stop him. His touch was so familiar that I would recognize it anywhere. With every stroke, I couldn't help but imagine the impact he was having on my body. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down my spine and leaving me breathless.
I didn't need sensation to tell me how firm his caresses were, that each stroke of his finger was capable of tantalizing me to the point of orgasm.
Dante's raven-black hair was a mess, silky strands falling sideways on his face, partly obscuring his stunning eyes. His collar stood at attention on one side, giving him that bad boy look that first attracted me to him.
Longing to touch him, I tried to move my left hand. Although I knew what would happen, I held my breath and waited.
When nothing happened, I took a different route. Exasperated, I told my brain to tell my arm to move my hand.
More nothingness. Not even a twitch.
Hot tears spilled from my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face to land on the gurney.
"Shh, cariño, it's going to be okay. You're not alone." His large hand moved from my arm to my hair. There was a sweetness to him that I hadn't noticed before, and I leaned into that.
We arrived at the hospital and were met by a group of doctors who immediately took over the gurney ride.
"Give me an update," a tall blond resembling Alexander Skarsgard commanded as the group rushed through a set of imposing double doors.
The paramedic standing behind me, a gorgeous Indian woman who didn't seem intimidated by the Nordic-looking male, spoke up.
Her dark eyes met the doctors with a hint of playful defiance, a silent challenge to his authority. "Good morning to you too, Doctor Sandoval."
The doctor grunted an answer, but his medieval behavior didn't deter the woman. "The patient's condition remains stable. She presented with symptoms consistent with poisoning of unknown origin. The husband administered an unidentified antidote to counteract the toxin's effects. However, the patient is exhibiting signs of neurological impairment and anterograde amnesia."
Dr. Sandoval stared at the paramedic a little too long and then nodded once. "Thank you, Katla," he said, his tone softer than before. "We'll take it from here. Until the next one."
Katla smiled. "Until the next one." She turned to me. "You're in good hands. Doctor Sandoval is the best. Stay strong, love."
On our way to the ICU, Dr. Sandoval yelled for a hundred different kinds of tests that he needed to be done. Without further ado, his team started prodding me.
Out of nowhere, the largest needle I had ever seen appeared and plunged into my skin. It hurt like hell.
They took blood samples and swabbed inside my mouth. Exhausted, I closed my eyes. Sweet motherfucking sleep. Amazing.
In the distance, Dr. Sandoval's voice: "Keep the patient awake."
No, please, I wanted to sleep.
Badly.
A nurse nudged my shoulder and I groaned, almost animalistically. Maybe if I acted like a wild animal they would leave me alone.
The opposite happened.
The nurse, who told me that her name was Miranda, went on a ramble rampage. "Is that your husband? He's a handsome one, isn't he? And so protective. How long are you guys married? Fairly new then. Sweet. Do you have kids? No, do you want kids, then? I mean, you two would have the most adorable babies. Mixed babies are so cute. How many kids would you like to have? What do you do for a living? Yada yada yada..."
The next thing I knew, I was dragged away for a CT. Or was it an MRI?
All of the above, maybe?
Moments later, the sleep was knocked out of my eye when I ended up inside a claustrophobia-inducing machine. What kind of medieval torture machine was this?
The metallic clang of the machine closing in around me echoed in the small chamber, suffocating me in its confines. Panic clawed at my throat and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Shit. I shouldn't have done that.
My thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. What if the tests revealed that I would never walk again? What if this was the beginning of a life confined to a wheelchair? Forever dependent on others for even the most basic tasks?
Amid the chaos in my head, there was one thing that kept me grounded - Dante.
Just thinking about him, his love, his support, it calmed me down. I held onto that thought like a lifeline, knowing he'd be there for me, no matter what.
He said he would always put me first; so far, he hadn't let me down.
Back in the ICU, I was given oxygen and an anticoagulant medication with a name I couldn't pronounce.
The same nurse from earlier - what was her name again? Miranda - started naming a list of things that needed to be done to help my recovery.
Neurological assessments.
Psychological support.
And what were the other things?
I looked around the room, hoisting myself off the bed as best as possible to catch a glimpse of Dante, but he was nowhere to be found.
"Where's my husband?" My voice trembled and my words sounded distorted even to my ears.
Miranda's face fell. "We were going to tell you, but we needed you to hear about your treatment first."
"Tell me what?"
"He was arrested."
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