Chapter Thirteen : Protection Comes in Many Forms
Corinne
How many men did I need to protect? The answer was fifty-two, although I had to pester Stepen relentlessly for that answer. And even then, I knew that the number he offered up were probably only first-tier men, with many others in the organisation simply being deemed not important enough to warrant my protection. It was something I would have to discuss with Dimitri - when he woke up, but for now I had a number to work with - a purpose.
I glanced back towards the large figure laying in our bed and felt my chest stutter. At what point did I go from hating this man to lusting for him, to caring for him? How had I somehow become the one in charge of things around here while he recovered?
He would recover. He had to.
I didn’t leave our room for any sort of extended period of time. My showers were short and efficient, my meals were all taken at the vanity that I had turned into my desk, and my spell work was all conducted on the plush carpet of our bedroom floor. Even when I darted to Ravi’s room to check on him, I was conscious of leaving Dimitri’s side - leaving him vulnerable.
The pain medication was strong enough to keep both Dimitri and Ravi down for a few days, and while doc Benson had warned me of the side-effects, I hadn’t quite grasped what it had meant - hadn’t fully understood that while I would be sleeping next to Dimitri, I would also be very much alone.
I had been using Stepen to run errands for me, and whilst a part of me felt a little bit bad, I seemed to have switched off that main part of me that served as my conscience - the one that nudged at my very soul, whispering words of guilt, reminding me that it was important to be kind in a world so cruel.
Because I didn’t feel even feel remotely guilty each time Doc Benson arrived at the house to check on my men. My voice was cold, my words often cruel as I leveraged the weight of the Bratva behind me. I still wasn’t certain of my place in Dimitri’s world - of what was expected of me, but as the Bratva’s Vedman, I wielded respect, and the men fell in line.
Stepen would be arriving here any moment, which meant I needed to remove myself from this room - remove myself from the vicinity of Dimitri.
The thought curdled in the pits of the stomach, souring the contents of my breakfast - breakfast that Henla had made for me. Suddenly, the little housekeeper was responding to every one of my needs and requirements, it made me dislike her slightly less.
As expected, I heard the front door click open. It was easy to hear such sounds in the silence of the house, just as the weight of Dimitri’s unconscious presence seemed to press down on all of us. I pressed my lips against Dimi’s forehead, leaving him a light kiss of farewell before I darted out the room and headed downstairs to meet Stepen. No one was allowed to enter Dimitri’s room except for Doc Benson - I didn’t want the others staining the space, not when I was constantly imbuing the area with healing Magick.
My bare feet lagged against the cold tiles of the entry hall as I halted before Stepen. Eli stood beside me, and over the last few days, we had both made it clear that there was no love lost between the two of us. He was an old arrogant asshole who seemed to think that the only value I held was when I was fucking Dimitri - inadvertently blessing the Bratva.
Fat lot of help that had done. Dimitri had been buried inside of me most nights, and he was still lying half-conscious in the bed upstairs.
“Tell me, Vedman.” The twist of Eli’s mouth as he spat the words at me told me that he was in fine form tonight.
I stifled a sigh as my hackles raised. These were what our daily interactions were made of. Stepen blushed beside him, shuffling from foot to foot as he shifted the weighted plastic bag in his palm. At least he had done my shopping.
I stood before them, a stoic expression on my face as icy rage surged through my veins. I would not show Eli my rage - would not give him that satisfaction. Not when he had already called me a fraud - already informed me in no uncertain terms that he thought that this entire thing was my fault.
He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t about to simply agree with him - offer my neck up to the butcher’s block. So, instead, I stood and waited to hear what depraved insults would spill from his lips today.
“Why have you instructed our men that they cannot approach Ravi’s warehouse?” Spittle flew from his lips as he attempted to rein in his rage - his anger.
“Because I need to look at the area first before anyone can set foot on the premises. This entire set-up is steeped in Magick, and I can't guarantee the men's safety if they go in there blind."
"You couldn't guarantee Dimitri's safety, and you're fucking him, so excuse me, Vedman, if I don't put much stock in the lies you're peddling."
The whites of Stepen's eyes widened in shock, but I didn't budge - didn't react, because it was the same thing Eli had been alluding to over the past couple of days. Instead, I allowed that cold, icy rage to settle me - to anchor me as I chose to answer him.
"I can guarantee you, that if I wasn't fucking Dimitri - if I hadn't blanketed him in my protection, the outcome would have been entirely different."
The angry raised flesh on Dimitri's wrist was an apt reminder of the protection I offered - of the protection that may have been the one thing that saved him. Because what Doc Benson hadn't said - didn't dare say - was that Dimitri should have been dead. But he wasn't. Instead, he lay slumbering in an unconscious state of sleep that was supposed to be healing him.
"We'll have to talk to Dimitri about that if he wakes up."
"When," I countered.
Eli simply grunted, my cold responses no doubt serving to only infuriate him further.
"Brought you your candles." Stepen interjected, no doubt in an attempt to dissipate the rising tension.
"Thank you." I allowed a smile to blossom on my lips as my fingers snatched the plastic packet from him. He had finally delivered the fifty-two candles that were on my list. Did Eli fall under that protection? I found myself hoping that he didn't.
"You don't belong here." Eli's parting words were meant to be a blow, but before he stepped out into the hot New Orleans day, I lobbied my own statement right back at him.