Page 34 of Eternal

He placed the pills on it with this strange, quiet care. Then, without looking away, he brought the bottle to my lips and tilted it.

“Swallow.”

That sounded… dirty.

The water was cold against the heat in my throat. I drank, swallowed, felt it go down.

When I finished, he stepped back and resumed what he was already doing.

“You done taking care of me?” I asked, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

He gave a half-smile. “Not even close.”

But then I heard it, my stomach growling, loud enough for him to hear too.

He paused, his eyes slowly turning toward me, catching the smallest flicker of annoyance on my face. I didn’t need to look at him to know a smirk was already curling his lips.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine,” I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground, hoping he’d drop it.

He didn’t. “Your stomach says otherwise.”

His footsteps moved toward the garage door, and to my surprise, he threw out, “Get on my bike. We’re grabbing food.”

I raised an eyebrow, finally looking up. “Since when is your bike here?”

“I have my contacts. Yours is also here.”

My stomach flipped, but not from hunger. Oh, Viktor. You idiot . “Is your contact a stupid, arrogant asshole who dared touch my baby without my permission?”

A low laugh escaped him, like I’d said the funniest thing all day. “Viktor wouldn’t like the way you talk about him, partner. Him and Lev brought the bikes back while you were still asleep. It’s been six hours. Did you know that?”

“You watched me sleep for six hours and organized all that?”

“Obviously.”

Of course, he did. My fingers were already brushing the keys near the door, but he was faster. He plucked them up and slid them into his front pocket.

I walked over; arms crossed. “I’ll take my bike.”

He didn’t even blink. His hand shifted further into his pocket, lower than it needed to go, and I knew immediately he was doing it on purpose. Testing me.

“Give me my keys back, Damir,” I snapped, stepping closer.

He stared down at me, the smirk fading into something colder, more controlled. “No.”

I scoffed. “What, you think I won’t touch your dick to get them back? You’re wrong.”

His expression didn’t change, not a twitch, not a frown. More of an assessing gaze like he was weighing whether I was worth the argument or not.

“Stop wasting time,” he said flatly, then turned toward the door. “You’re still recovering, and that nasty cut on your stomach is gonna take time to heal. So shut up and get behind me.”

I glared at him, my hand twitching, half-considering whether to punch him and take the damn keys. But I didn’t.

Be kind, Azra. Let’s say it’s my way of thanking him.

He walked to the door, opened it, and there they were, our bikes, parked inside the garage next to the car.

He grabbed his helmet, slid it on, and let the visor open before turning to me with a smug smile, holding out mine. “Put that on.”

I grabbed the helmet, shoved it on with a grumble. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to fight.”

Damir snorted. “I sure am.”

I climbed onto his bike, silently fuming as he started the engine. Every time I tried to adjust myself, my body pressed against his because of his stupid acceleration, making me curse under my breath. But when his hands reached back again, tightening mine around his waist, I froze for a second.

His grip was strong, calm and it made me feel weird, safe .

I hated that. I hated how foreign it felt. How unnecessary it should’ve been. No one ever looked at me like I needed any kind of protection.

No one ever cared if I bled, if I broke, if I barely stitched myself back together with only my survival instinct as a determination.

And yet…Somewhere beneath my skin, something small, invisible and desperate curled up at that touch.

As if, for once, I wasn’t the strong and bad Voron.

As if I could be something else. It wasn’t just his body against mine, it was the way he was holding me there, like he had no intention of letting go of his partner.

Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

I tightened my grip instinctively, feeling the heat from his back through his jacket.

Damn it. Focus.

This wasn’t supposed to matter.

I pulled my hands back slightly, trying to shake it off.

No way I was going to let myself get distracted.

I didn’t have the time to even react before he gave a low grunt and replaced them around his waist almost tighter than before.

“Better,” he muttered, as if it was nothing.

Better…

We slowed for a red light, and I barely registered the moment until I felt his thumb caress my hand, slowly, up and down, up and down.

It was like the most natural thing in the world for him.

My breath hitched before I could stop it, and I could feel my pulse racing, even though I tried to ignore it.

Damn it, he was good at this.

He kept driving with that calm, stoic calm, his hands steady while mine were around him.

Me? My mind was racing. I couldn’t stop thinking about the keys still tucked in his damn pocket. Cargo pants. Low pocket. And now that I was close enough, the temptation to grab them was impossible to resist.

I shifted subtly, my fingers inching toward the prize.

“You better not?—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish, my fingers slid into his pocket, brushing against something warm, something hard. His body tensed immediately.

“Stop it,” he growled, his voice low and cutting. “Stop touching me there. You’re distracting me.”

I sighed dramatically, pulling my hand back, barely. “Relax. It’s just a pocket.”

“It’s not just my pocket, idiot,” he said, almost laughing.

Why was I smiling?

Was I flirting? Was this what Kat meant by teasing? Because I liked how it threw him off.

He jerked the bike slightly, slowing down, his voice lower. “If you don’t stop, Voron, I’m putting us both into a wall.”

I laughed, this time, leaning closer, resting my hand on his back for balance. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave.”

But as we fell back into silence, I couldn’t ignore the way his posture seemed to loosen a little. Maybe I wasn’t flirting. Maybe I was simply... team bonding with him.

Wait . Why am I even using that expression?

It was his, and I knew it was his, and here I was, parroting it like some idiot.

Team bonding.

I shot him a look, trying to shake the thought away.

We pulled up to a small joint on a street lined with restaurants and fast-food spots. I glanced around, raising an eyebrow.

Wait. I knew this place.

This is my favorite spot in the city.

I raised an eyebrow, narrowing my eyes at him. “How do you know this is my spot?”

He didn’t look at me, simply smirked slightly. “Partner telepathy.”

Creepy…

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach had other priorities, growling loud enough to break any argument I might’ve had.

“You want me to stay here?” I asked, trying not to sound desperate, but my eyes probably gave me away.

I hated places like this.

Too many people, too much noise. It’s not that I can’t handle it, I simply don’t want to.

I’ve been to enough crowded spots to know they don’t bring anything but annoyance. I’d rather wait outside, alone, like I always do when Vik or Kat drag me here, they go in, and I stay out. It’s not sad. It’s... easier. Plus, I’m injured.

He shrugged, already getting up and walking toward the door. “Yeah. I’ll grab the food. What do you want?”

I rattled off my order with a little too much excitement. “Burrito. Extra chicken. No black beans, only rice. Guac. And jalapenos if they’ve got them.”

He glanced at me for a second, took off his helmet and smiled, if we can call that a smile. Then, without a word, he turned toward the door.

I handed him my credit card, expecting him to take it without thinking much of it.

He looked at the card, then at me, then at the card again and shook his head slightly. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Don’t ever do that again, partner. ”

I nodded and pulled the card back, trying not to show any embarrassment. “Thanks.”

He tapped my helmet lightly, his gaze softening barely enough to show he wasn't mad, more like he was amused. “Be right back.”

I watched him walk away, my eyes following curiously the curve of his back, the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed with every step.

He’s so… steady .

I forced myself to focus on the peacefulness of the street instead, the quiet life around me at this hour.

I lied when I said it was noisy. It’s actually calm here, in this part of the city. I like it, I always liked it. My family used to come here all the time, we always ate here.

If I’m being honest, I hate going inside.

There's always that nagging feeling, the fear that someone might recognize me.

The small, happy girl who used to come here with her mother.

Not that I doubt how much I've changed, I'm a monster now, one the little me would've feared.

But it's easier to pretend I don't like crowds.

How else am I supposed to explain that walking back inside here makes me more anxious than killing people?

I guess you can’t.

When he returned, the smell of burritos hit me before he did. He tossed the bag onto the bike, and I grabbed it immediately.

“Good?” I asked, even though I weirdly knew he wouldn’t mess it up.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I got you.” Then, with that cold, detached tone of his, he added, “Now let’s eat.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t do dates.”

He smirked as he pulled his helmet back on. “Good. Because this isn’t a date. Just two partners grabbing food. Completely platonic.”

“Right. Totally normal.”

“Exactly.” He climbed onto the bike. “Let’s go. I know a spot.”

I got on behind him, ignoring the way my stomach fluttered as I adjusted my grip. The warmth of his back seeped through his jacket, grounding me as we sped off again.

It wasn’t hunger, it wasn’t the ride. The damn butterflies were back.

I blamed the injury. It had to be the injury.

Or maybe it’s because he looks hot taking care of me like that? I don’t know and it’s messing with my head.

We reached our destination twenty minutes later. Damir turned off the engine, and I slid off the bike, a little too fast, a little too eager. My hand brushed his arm, a tiny stupid little touch, as I reached for the burritos. I pretended I didn’t notice, but I knew he felt it.

And I hated myself for wanting him to.