Guard Me (Broken Heroes 4)

“Ivan!” I yell this time. When he doesn’t respond I decide to slap him. Pulling my hand back I slap him square across the face, my palm connecting with his heated cheek, the sting from the contact of my hand on his skin can still be felt when his eyes open, his hand coming up to grip my wrist as if out of reflex.

His grip is hard as steel and I grimace at his touch. There’s a feral look in his eyes, a deep fear. I only catch a glimpse of it before he blinks and it’s gone. Anger replaces those emotions, and flares in his stone gray eyes. A coldness sweeps through me, as he sits up slightly. It’s then that I catch a whiff of whiskey. It hangs in the air between us.

“Were you drinking?” I ask softly. Ivan’s eyes bleed into mine for a long moment, before he releases my wrist with a shove. I’m not sure what happened. When I fell asleep everything was different. I was in my cell, but now I’m here, and I don’t understand why, and I don’t understand why he’s so angry with me.

“Why did you slap me?” His voice is gruff, and he sounds like he might’ve been swallowing gravel all night and I would assume so as well if he didn’t smell like a distillery

“You were screaming. You had a nightmare. Do you usually have those?”

“That’s none of your fucking business,” his brash response surprises me. He’s never talked to me with so much anger in his voice. Without even looking at me he gets up from the bed.

“It’s okay to talk about it Ivan. I’m sorry if she hurt you…”

As fast as Ivan got up from the bed he’s storming right back toward me, his eyes blazing with emotions, he puts his finger in my face as he yells.

“You don’t fucking know anything. Nothing. You’re lucky you’ve weasled your way under my skin as far as you have, because otherwise you’d be just like the nine other women downstairs.”

I blink, his words are like a punch to the gut. Nine other women? A sudden surge of anger grips onto me refusing to let go. I’m angry because I’m here against my will. I’m angry for the other women almost being held against their will and I’m angry at this Mira for hurting Ivan even though I obviously shouldn’t be. I’m angry at the world and before I even realize it, I’m yelling back at him.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know, okay? I woke up and you were screaming in your sleep. I was scared. I didn’t know what was happening and I don’t know who Mira is but…”

My words are cut off before they can even finish coming out. Ivan is on me in a flash, his hands gripping my arms so tightly I cry out in pain.

He starts to shake me, his face millimeters away from mine.

“Don’t even fucking say her name. You don’t fucking know anything!”

Tears fill my eyes. Why is he so angry?

I feel like I have whiplash when he releases my arms just to grip onto my waist with equal force. He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, knocking the breath from my lungs in the process.

I just don’t understand… I don’t understand why he is so mad. Why is he suddenly treating me like this? Why did he even bring me up here? I don’t know anything and everything about this situation terrifies me. The only person I have is him, and he’s angry with me, furious.

“Ivan.” I whisper his name needing him to tell me it’s going to be okay.

“Shut up and keep your eyes closed,” he orders as we walk out the front door and into the hall. I close my eyes and grip onto the fabric of his shirt hoping that I didn’t just make the biggest mistake ever. I should have kept my mouth shut. If I would have just stayed quiet I would be still in Ivan’s bed right now. I would be warm, and tucked into his side. This is my fault. All mine. We walk down a flight of stairs, before turning to walk down another when Ivan’s steps come to a sudden halt, his grip on me tightens and in turn my finger nails dig into the cotton of his t-shirt.

“Ivan.” An unfamiliar voice reaches my ears. Its belongs to a dark, sinister man. I know it even without seeing his face. Its merely his tone, and the reaction that Ivan has to his presence that tells me all I need to know about him.

“Yulie.” Ivan greets him.

“Is that one of the girls from downstairs?” Yulie’s voice grows closer, heavy footsteps bounce of the walls. He’s walking over to us. My body starts to shake, and I want to go back in time to change what I did. I want to apologize and beg and plead.