“Stop smiling like that,” she shouts. “You’re creeping me out. You’re supposed to be weak and drowsy from blood loss. Stop freaking me out with that freaky smile. Be in pain. You’re allowed to be in pain. You’re human too.”
I shrug off my coat despite the pain. I feel the wound separate, allowing more blood to trickle down. I then drape it around her shoulders. “It’s cold. Put this on.”
She obeys without arguing. She slips her arms through the sleeves, letting out a contented sigh. Then she looks up at me, and tears start falling from her beautiful eyes.
“No. No. No. No. No.” I touch her face with my bloodied hands. “Please don’t cry. I’m the one hurting. I don’t need you crying. It will only make me upset.”
“At who?” A tear rolls down her cheek.
“At those men who hurt you.” I wipe her tears away. “But I already killed them. I can’t bring them back to life and kill them again. So please, your tears are precious to me. Don’t waste them on this.”
She nods. But it seems my words don’t even get to her as more tears flow down her face. And I keep trying to wipe her tears. But then I hear footsteps approach. It doesn’t sound like one person, more like multiple. My mind begins to spiral.
Are more of those men coming? Or are these my men?
Immediately they come into view, I see Paul and his men appear at the mouth of the alley. All their weapons are drawn, and they look ready to shoot. Paul rushes forward. “Pakhan, we came as fast as we could. What happened, sir?”
I shoot him a look. “Why didn’t you take your time?” I say, annoyed.
Paul stammers. “Sir, we had to get here. Your wife sounded frantic on the phone.”
“Well, she’s handling me just fine.” I look at Zoya. “See? She’s taking care of me.”
I feel her hands press a little harder against my chest.
“You crazy fucker.” Zoya turns to Paul. “Please, he’s delusional from blood loss. Help him with these wounds before he bleeds out.”
“I’m not delusional.”
“You are. Somebody, please help him before he starts talking crazy.”
“The next person who touches me without my permission dies.”
Everyone freezes.
Zoya stares at me. “Are you serious right now? You’re not going to let your people help you?”
“You’re already helping.” I smile at her. “Your hands are enough. They’re like magical healing potions.”
She looks at me incredulously. “My hands are not magical healing potions or medical treatment or whatever I appear to you as. Like I’m some kind of goddess in your head. You need help.” Immediately she pulls her hands away, fresh blood starts to flow from the wounds. “There, now you’re bleeding more. Are you happy?”
“No.” I reach for her hands, trying to put them back. “Please put them back.”
She jerks away. “Not until you let them help you.”
I groan, frustrated. “I don’t want their help. I want yours, and you were doing a good job.”
She sounds annoyed. “I don’t know how to remove bullets, Alexei. If anybody hasn’t told you, I’m not certified in CPR. Idon't even know how to do it. So stop being stubborn and let them help.” she says through gritted teeth.
I walk forward towards her. “You don’t need to know how to remove bullets. Just touching me helps. It was working.”
“That’s because I was applying pressure so that you wouldn’t die of blood loss. I wasn’t doing any magical shit.”
“Exactly. So keep doing it.”
She takes a step back, and I follow like a dog. “Don’t run from me.”
“I wouldn’t be running if you weren’t being difficult.”