Page 33 of Devour (Blood and Roses #1)

Luca

T he pain is dull now. It thrums beneath my skin like the echo of a distant drum muffled, but steady. I float somewhere between sleep and consciousness, adrift in a haze of sedatives and blood loss. Voices come and go. Hands touch me. Cloth wipes over my skin.

The scent of soap and iron tangles in my nose. I’m vaguely aware of soft hands helping me relieve myself. Even through the dark fog, I feel her presence like cool fingers pressed to a fevered brow.

I want to tell her I’m fine, but my mouth won’t cooperate. I try to open my eyes, but they’re too heavy. Still, I know she’s here. I can feel the weight of her palm resting on my chest light, but steady.

Her breath brushes my shoulder as she exhales slowly beside me. It’s the only thing calming the fire still licking at the edges of my nerves.

I remember the gunshots. We’d secure the cargo with minimal hit to my men. But I made a mistake. I let the captain go. The next thing I knew, a bullet tore through my shoulder and side.

Thank God I still had my gun in hand, I shot him in the head before he could fire again. I don’t know how long I’ve been out. But when I finally open my eyes, the room is dark.

I reach for the lamp beside the bed and switch it on. My eyes search for her. She’s curled up beside me, her hand draped over my chest as if I might disappear if she lets go.

When it shifts slightly, brushing against my side, a sharp jolt of pain makes me grunt softly. Carefully, I ease her hand away and slip out of bed.

On the nightstand, I spot a bottle of painkillers with a half-filled glass of water beside it. I take the bottle, pop two pills, and wash them down with the water.

It takes more effort than I want to admit moving without making a sound. I make it to the bathroom and relieve myself. By the time I get back, I’m exhausted—my body screaming at me for pushing too hard.

I ease back into bed and gently place her hand over my chest. She stirs, murmurs something incoherent, and rubs her face against my side.

The painkillers are finally kicking in. I lift her hand to my lips, press a kiss to her fingers, then settle it back on my chest.

With a slow exhale, I close my eyes, letting sleep pull me under again. When I open them, morning sunlight pours through the window. I squint and raise a hand to shield my face as I attempt to sit up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a movement— It’s Arie, walking toward me with a tray holding a bowl, a glass of milk, and some fruit. She hurries to my side the moment she sees me trying to get up and quickly sets the tray on the bedside table.

“What are you doing?” she asks, concern in her voice.

“Trying to sit up,” I mutter, my voice still hoarse.

She rushes beside me, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder.

“Stop moving,” she says firmly. “You’re not supposed to strain yourself.”

“If I don’t get up now, I’m afraid we’ll be dealing with a very embarrassing situation.”

She gives me a confused look, head tilted slightly, not quite understanding what I mean.

“I need to take a leak.”

“Oh…”

Her eyes widen slightly, and her cheeks flush. I smirk as I pull back the covers to get out of bed. She quickly regains her composure and reaches out to help me.

“I can manage on my own,” I tell her, but she still hovers close, supporting me until we reach the bathroom.

“Are you going to watch?” I ask, amused.

She turns red—redder than a strawberry—and quickly scurries out. When I finish my business, I wash my hands and brush my teeth.

I should probably take a shower, but I don’t think I can manage it without getting the bandages wet. I know Arie’s been cleaning me while I was bedridden. I make my way to the door and find her waiting outside.

The moment she sees me; she rushes to my side to help me walk. I try not to lean on her too much, careful not to put all my weight on her small frame. She stays close, guiding me gently back to bed.

Once we reach the edge of the bed, I lower myself down with a grunt, and she helps prop the pillows behind me, making sure I’m comfortable. That’s when I really look at her.

She has dark circles under her eyes, her face pale and drawn.

Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she looks completely burned out.

She must have sat like this beside Noah’s bed too—worrying, caring for him, never stopping to think about how it was wearing her down.

And now, I’m making her worry all over again.

I can’t even imagine everything she’s been through… taking care of our son, juggling different part-time jobs.

She always wanted to be a teacher. I never even asked what happened to that dream—or why she ended up working at the club. My guess? She got pregnant with my child and gave everything up.

And now, for the first time, I truly realize how much she’s sacrificed for me. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I want us to forget the past and start fresh.

I’m damn sure this is the woman I want to spend forever with. And it took nearly seeing the light fade at the end of the fucking tunnel for me to finally have the courage to say it.

“Do I have something on me?”

Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I blink and realize she’s holding a spoonful of porridge to my lips. I shake my head. She nudges the spoon closer. Some of it smears on my lips.

“I made this myself. Griselda taught me. Try it, it’s good.”

I slip out my tongue to catch the smear, and I catch her eyes following the movement. I’m suddenly in the mood to tease her. I lean back against the pillow, putting distance between me and the spoon.

“Noah?”.

Her face lights up instantly.

“He’s much better. His doctor says in a few weeks, he’ll be able to go out fully, maybe even return to school. He’s using the playroom now. You should’ve seen the look on his face when I told him he could play with all the toys.”

I watch her get caught up in the moment, excitement blooming across her features. It brings a smile to my face. She finally stops, realizing she got a little carried away.

“Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

She brings the spoon back to my lips. Damn porridge. I could get full just from hearing her talk like that—with so much joy lighting up her face. I take the spoon into my mouth. It actually tastes good, but I don’t let it show.

I keep my gaze locked on her as I slowly let the spoon slide out. Her lips part slightly as she watches mine, hesitating with the now-empty spoon.

She seems to catch herself, quickly scooping up another spoonful and bringing it to my lips again. I do the same thing slowly, deliberately, watching her.

“How long have I been out?” I ask.

“Four days.”

“Four days?” I groan. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

She pauses, the spoon dipping back into the bowl, like she wasn’t expecting me to say that. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it either. She continues feeding me, spoon after spoon, and I keep letting it slide from my lips, slow and deliberate. I know exactly what I’m doing.

By the sixth spoonful, I notice her breathing has turned uneven. Her nipples press against the fabric of her loose shirt, hard and obvious through the thin material. I pull back slightly.

“I don’t want it,” I murmur, fully intending on taking advantage of the moment.

“Does it taste bad?” she asks, a flicker of concern in her eyes.

“No,” I say quickly, reassuring her.

“Then what is it?”

“I want something else.”

When she asks what I want, I know I’ve got her right where I want her. I take her hand and guide it down my chest, slipping it under the covers. I watch her expression shift from confusion to stunned silence when I place her hand directly over the hard length of my cock.

“You.” She tries to pull her hand away, but I keep it firmly in place.

“The doctor said—”

“The doctor’s not here.”

“You’re still injured,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “You can’t move too much.”

“I don’t have to move much,” I mumble, guiding her hand over the length of me, rubbing it in slowly. I give her the best pleading look I can muster puppy eyes with a devil’s edge.

She bites the side of her lip as she glances around, like the doctor might suddenly appear and scold her for breaking his orders.

If I weren’t so horny and desperate, I might’ve laughed. But then, her hand starts moving on its own. She caresses my cock through my pants, and I close my eyes, throwing my head back, intent on enjoying the feel of her soft hands on me. A moan escapes my lips.

Suddenly, something pops into my mouth. Confused, I open my eyes and look down to find her holding another cherry to my lips, her eyes fixed on mine.

“The doctor says it’s good for your healing,” she says sweetly.

I’m going to castrate that damn doctor as soon as I get out of this bed. I chew reluctantly, and she keeps feeding me fruit until she’s satisfied, I’ve eaten enough.

Then, she removes the covers. I can’t hide the excitement spreading across my face. I quickly swallow the last bite in my mouth, lifting my hips as she pulls my pants down just enough to release my cock.