Throne of Power (Throne Duet #1) by Rina Kent

I snatch the prescription from the doctor’s hand and shove it into Katia’s. “Make it quick.”

“Yes, miss.” She nods and sprints out of the mansion.

Since the doctor told us how to safely move him, I order Ruslan and another of Sergei’s guards to place him on a tall coffee table then carry it upstairs.

I follow after, even though my feet are shaking. I stare at the blood on my hands, a deep, crimson red. His blood…Kyle’s.

As soon as I’m inside the room, I rush to the bathroom and yank the faucet on. I rub my trembling hands together over and over again and taste salt. That’s when I know tears are cascading down my cheeks.

I wipe them with the back of my hand, then wash my face before I come out of the bathroom with a wet towel.

Ruslan stays by the bed on which Kyle is lying. My husband is only in his pants after the doctor cut through his bloodied shirt. A bandage is wrapped around his chest and slung over his shoulder.

“Go help outside, Ruslan,” I manage to say. “And tell Katia to get in here as soon as she has the meds.”

“Yes, miss.”

With one last look at me, Ruslan leaves the room.

All the energy I used to remain standing abandons me. I fall to my knees at the side of the bed, then carefully wipe the blood that’s marring Kyle’s abs.

He shouldn’t be bleeding or hurt. He’s too professional and methodical for that.

And yet he is.

Because no matter how professional he is, Kyle is still human. Humans bleed and die.

Like he almost did today. His words from our wedding day rush back to me, the part where he told me not to wish to become a widow because that might come true sooner than expected.

I cup his jaw with my fingers and lean in to place a kiss on his lips, my shaking mouth lingering there for an extra second before I murmur, “You’re not allowed to leave again, asshole.”





28





Kyle





My ears buzz as I slowly open my eyes.

The first thing I see is a beautiful woman. Her hair cascades on either side of her face, the blonde strands camouflaging her expression.

The angel who came to visit me in my last moments…only, were they my last moments?

She’s diligently wiping my chest, her expression solemn and her brows concentrated as if she’s in the middle of the most important task of her life. I don’t dare disturb her, because all I want to do is to look at her—really look at her, and engrave this view and her to memory, and keep her there.

With me.

At that moment when I thought everything would be over, the thing I thought about wasn’t my mission or the people whose hearts I couldn’t rip out with my bare hands. The only thing that came to mind was this beautiful spitfire of a woman who was finally opening up to me after hating me for years—or maybe I told myself she was opening up.

I thought about how she would be all alone again, how she would become closed off and would beat the world out of her inner circle.

And I didn’t like that. I don’t like that. She would be all alone in the world without me, without anyone to hold on to.

Deep down, I already promised myself I would protect her. I already took that vow saying she would be the only person I’d make an exception for.

The only person who would be mine.

It takes superhuman energy for me to move my arm. My hand grasps her strands, and I take them between my fingers, caressing the golden hair.

Rai jerks her head upright and stares at me with those blue eyes I never once forgot about, those eyes that sometimes visited me in my sleep and forced me to wake up in a cold sweat. Why do these eyes have a hold on me when my only purpose in life is to destroy everything she stands for?

But it doesn’t matter how much I hate what she stands for. I’ve never hated her. She’s the only one I’ve ever allowed this close.

Her lips part, and soon enough, she stares at me with that wretched expression. Then, slowly, too slowly, her mouth opens, and she smiles at me as if she’s seeing me for the first time.

I guess this is the type of reaction I wanted when I came back, but she wanted to have me punished. She wanted me killed. Now she’s smiling because I woke up.

This woman is a paradox.

“You’re awake.”

I nod, and the simple motion holds me hostage. Pain explodes in my chest and spreads all over my body.

“How are you feeling? Should I get the doctor?”

“No,” I say in a voice so hoarse I doubt she heard the word. “I’ll survive.”

“Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, do that again!” Mixed emotions are evident in her voice: relief, desperation, but most of all, she appears to be on the verge of a meltown.

“Do what?”

“Why the hell did you run in front of Sergei that way?”

“Because you were going to do it. You were running to use yourself as a fucking body shield. Did you expect me to let you sacrifice yourself?”

“That’s my duty as part of the brotherhood.”

“It is not your duty to get yourself killed.”

“And it’s not your duty, either. Since when do you give a fuck about Sergei?”

“I don’t. The only one I ever gave a fuck about is you.”

Her lips part and I expect her to say something, to shoot back a retort, as usual, but she continues wiping my chest. Her expression is solemn, and I can see the tears that are gathered in her eyes.