Page 32 of Eternal

But the truth was, I didn’t want him to care, I didn’t want him to be here, with his damn concern, his damn touch. Not because I didn’t like him, but because liking people in my life was a luxury I could never afford.

Ahead, the faint outline of headlights caught my attention, I squinted and realized we were approaching an intersection.

There, standing on the empty street, were Nikolai’s men.

Damir didn’t hesitate, pulling the car to a stop, his eyes flicked to mine, and he said, “Stay here. Don’t move.”

Is he forcing me to stay in the car?

“I can walk.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, and before I could react, he hit the button, locking the car doors.

I glared at him, as I pulled the handle, trying to get out. “Open the fucking car, you idiot!”

He didn’t even look at me, his expression was cold, focused on the men ahead as he stepped out of the car. “I won't be long.”

I sighed, pounding on the window in frustration. “Damir, seriously!” But he was already moving toward the group of men.

Idiot.

Fucking idiot, controlling weird man.

God, the man was impossible to ignore, no matter how much I told myself he wasn’t my problem, my eyes stayed glued to him. His shoulders, his stupid confidence, and the memories of his touch on my skin, it was all infuriating.

I slumped back into the seat, crossing my arms. Pain flared in my side as the movement tugged at my injury, and I hissed under my breath. “Fuck…” I bit down a grimace and adjusted in the seat, leaning my head back.

I shouldn’t be moving so much.

My eyes drifted to him again, he stood there, calm, talking to the group like he had all the time in the world, the bastard.

There was nothing wrong, nothing at all. He wasn’t in danger, I wasn’t in danger, everything was fine. And yet, I couldn’t stop watching him. But why? Is that normal? Am I feverish? Maybe dying?

Focus on something else. Anything else.

But my traitorous eyes wandered back to him, drawn in like they had a mind of their own. Maybe it was the way he talked to me or the fact that I knew he didn’t care if I was watching him or worse, it was because he liked having my eyes on him, that somehow made me blush for no reason.

He turned slightly, his profile catching the moonlight, and my stomach did this weird little flip. What is it? Maybe my wound is getting infected.

I need to get a grip, he’s an ass, a creepy, impossible-to-ignore ass.

The last thing I needed was to get caught up in some pointless attraction, my life was too messy for that.

The exchange seemed to stretch on, the minutes feeling longer than they should, and then, finally, the door opened.

The box, the bag, everything we came for.

He didn’t say anything as he climbed into the car, his eyes meeting mine again.

For a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel my pulse quicken, even though I hated myself for it.

He dropped the box behind my seat, the bag next to it, and then, for a long second, we simply stared at each other. I could see the corner of his mouth twitching as though he was holding something back.

It took everything in me not to let my breath catch, but I didn’t let him see, I couldn't, I wasn’t here to get wrapped up in whatever the hell this was.

“What was that?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.

“Shipment’s secure,” he said, his voice clipped, like he was done talking about it.

I narrowed my eyes. “You locked me in the car.”

His gaze flicked to mine, sharp and unreadable. “And what’s the problem?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, frustrated. “You didn’t have to ? — ”

“Stop talking.” His voice was quieter now, almost dangerously so.

“I’m going to kill you one of these days.”

He laughed, a low, dark sound, before accelerating. “It would mean that you care about me.”

“Or that you’re an asshole,” I shot back.

“Same thing,” he said, glancing back at me with a small smile.

I waited, biting down on the pain, trying to keep my breathing steady for long minutes.

The mission could’ve been longer if we didn’t have the Don’s intel, so we're going back home, we weren't that far from the city, I needed to keep it quiet until we arrived.

My hand pressed against my side, uselessly trying to hold it together, but the blood kept slipping through my fingers. Without warning, my strength gave out, and my arm fell limply onto my lap, smearing dark red across my pants and the car seat.

The world tilted for a second, and before I could stop myself, I let out a shaky breath.

“Shit.” The car swerved slightly before coming to an abrupt stop, I barely registered the motion. “What the hell were you thinking?” Damir sounded angry, but his hands were already on me, unbuckling my seat-belt and pulling me toward him.

Before I could protest, he was so close that our noses touched.

“Let me see.”

“No. It’s nothing, keep driving.” I tried to bat his hands away, but it was laughable, weak, pathetic.

He ignored me, his movements soft as he pulled my shirt up enough to see, the sharp intake of his breath made my stomach clench.

“Idiot,” he muttered, his hand pressing firmly against the wound to staunch the bleeding. The pressure made me wince, but his grip didn’t falter. “You could’ve bled out.”

“I didn’t,” I mumbled, glaring at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Not for lack of trying.”

There was no warmth in his tone, no softness now in the way he worked. His fingers were deft, and precise, as he pulled a kit from the glove compartment and ripped it open.

He was angry. Not at the situation but at me.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded, cleaning the wound with a harshness that bordered on cruelty.

I hissed through clenched teeth. “Didn’t think it was that bad.”

He didn’t answer, but his jaw clenched, and the muscle in his temple ticked.

When he finally looked up, his eyes locked on mine. “You’re going to stop thinking because you’re doing a shitty job at that.”

I didn’t respond, my body felt heavy, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. I had some shitty nights lately, and I kept training without resting. This injury was the last thing I needed.

His hand lingered for a fraction of a second longer than it needed to on my skin.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled weakly, but it was a lie.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he muttered, maneuvering me carefully.

Before I knew it, he’d pulled me across the center console. I barely had time to process the movement before I found myself in his lap, cradled against his chest.

“ What— ”

“Stay still.” His voice left no room for argument, one hand steadying the wheel as he started driving again, the other pressing against my wound.

The pressure was firm, sending a sharp spike of pain through me.

“Fuck. Easy!” I hissed, my head falling against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in my ear.

“You’ve lost too much blood,” he said, ignoring my protest.

I wanted to argue, to tell him I could handle it, but the warmth of his chest against my cheek and the rhythmic beat of his heart was lulling me into a strange, drowsy calm.

How long has it been since someone took care of me like that? I let go of this care myself.

“This is so impractical,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Practicality doesn’t matter right now.” His hand tightened slightly, pressing harder against the wound.

I winced but didn’t have the energy to fight him. “You’re going to wreck the car if you keep me like this.”

“I don’t wreck cars,” he said flatly. “Stop talking and stay awake.”

“Bossy,” I mumbled.

“Shut up and listen for once.”

His eyes stayed focused on the road; his jaw set in that maddeningly calm way of his, but I could feel the way his pulse was faster than normal, the way his chest was rising and falling slightly quicker than before against my cheek…he was warm, he felt warm .

“I knew it,” I whispered, trying for a smirk. “You’re not just some grunt. What you did on the wound in a few seconds was too clean, too professional. You stayed way longer than you said in the military, didn’t you?”

His grip on the wheel faltered for a second, and his eyes flicked down to me, wide with surprise.

A faint smile tugged at my lips. “I see.”

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening again as he refocused on the road, but the hand on my side shifted, the pressure turning gentler, almost as if he was silently admitting I wasn’t wrong.

My vision blurred again, and I let my head fall heavier against his chest, the exhaustion creeping in, the pain was still there but his presence made it feel distant, almost manageable.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“Not sleeping,” I murmured, my words slurring. “But you’re so warm...”

His arm tightened around me. “Stay awake. That’s an order.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, to give him some sarcastic retort, but the sound of his heartbeat was too steady, too grounding, for once, I didn’t fight him, but I did let myself go for a moment.

He weirdly felt safe enough for me to let the pain be real.