The Reluctant Wife: A Bodyguard – Princess Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Davenports Book 4)

I walk into the hospital room. The scent of antiseptic sinks into my blood and whips my already churning guts into a heaving mass which boils up my gullet. I tamp down on the turbulent feeling, telling myself I need to stay strong. I approach the bed where he’s hooked to various machines.

The intermittent beeping echoes the thundering of my heart. A pulse oximeter is attached to his finger, and a cannula delivering oxygen is strapped to his nose. His arms are at his sides, and he looks pale under his tan. I can make out the bandages on his chest which peek out from under the neck of his hospital gown. It’s the sight of that which has tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes. I swore I wouldn’t cry when I saw him, but I can’t stop myself. I stand next to the bed and take his palm between mine.

His eyelids flutter open, and he smiles. ‘Empress.’ His voice is raw, and his eyes show echoes of the pain he must have experienced when the bullet hit him.

Again, my eyes are drawn to the bandage on the left side of his chest, and I begin to tremble. So close. He could have been killed. A centimeter one way or the other, and he might not have made it.

‘Your husband is very lucky,’ the doctor had said in a grave tone. ‘The operation was successful. The bullet hit him an inch below his heart. It made a clean exit, and it missed any vital organs. He did lose a lot of blood, so he’s weak. But he should make a full recovery.’

I sink down in the chair next to the bed, lower my head, and kiss his hand. ‘Ryot, baby—’ I want to say so much, but the words get stuck in my throat.

The sense of relief that he’s going to be fine is still sinking in. The vestiges of the anxiety, the helplessness, the sheer powerlessness I felt when I watched the medics trying to revive him on the way to the hospital, and then the wait as they operated on him, still clings to me. ‘I’m so glad you’re okay.’ I clear my throat.

‘Me too.’ He squeezes my fingers. ‘How are you doing?’ He scans my features. ‘You look tired.’

‘I’m going to be just fine.’ I manage a small smile. ‘You gave me a scare.’

‘I remember being hit…’ His forehead furrows. ‘And then… You talking about wanting orgasms?’ His brow clears. A sly smile plays around his mouth. ‘I owe you a great many of them, considering you saved my life.’

‘It’s the doctors who saved your life,’ I point out.

‘You applied pressure to the bullet wound when you reached me. Your actions helped stem the blood loss, and improved my chances considerably.”

‘You took a bullet for me.’ A ball of emotion knots my throat. ‘If you hadn’t been there⁠—’

‘There is nowhere else I could have been. I took a vow to look after you, and I take my promises very seriously. As long as I am alive, I swear nothing—and I mean nothing and no one—can touch a hair on your head.’

The vehemence in his words triggers a tsunami of emotions within me. I’ve heard him say this before, but to hear him say this after seeing his lifeless body on the ground brings home just how much he means it. ‘When I saw you unmoving and the blood pouring out of your wound’—I shake my head—’I thought I’d lost you.’

This time, he grins, a very confident, jaunty smirk. ‘And miss out on the orgasms I owe you? Nope, not letting you go that easily.’

I half laugh. Then the emotions overwhelm me, and I begin to cry, great sobbing gusts that make me cringe, and yet I can’t stop. I turn my head away, so he won’t see me and, hold onto his hand like it’s my only anchor in a storm.

‘Hey, baby, hey. Look, I’m completely okay.’ He tries to sit up, and that shocks me enough that I pause mid-sob.

‘Stop! You shouldn’t be doing that; they just operated on you.’

‘It’ll take more than a bullet to slow me down.’ He pulls me onto the bed, and I give in. The need to be near him, to be in his arms, to feel his skin against mine so I can assure myself that he really is okay is too overpowering. I climb onto the bed, taking care not to displace the various tubes attached to him.

Then, I lift his arm and place it around my shoulders and curl into his side.

Instantly, the beeping increases in frequency. ‘Proof of how you affect me, Empress.’ He chuckles.

I look up at him with worry. ‘Maybe, I should⁠—’

I begin to pull away, but he holds me in place. ‘Don’t you dare.’

I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering if I should disobey him, but everything inside me insists I obey. Hurt as he is, his power over me hasn’t diminished. The dominance that clings to him like a second skin has not been tempered by his wounded state.

He resembles an apex predator who’s been temporarily laid low but is far from vanquished. With the bandages and his mussed-up hair, he’s even more appealing. The vulnerability that I glimpsed when I held his hand as he was unconscious adds another dimension to him. It makes him even more attractive, sexier. But it’s also a sign that he’s human. That next time, he might not be this lucky. If something were to happen to him— I push the thought away, but it’s lodged in my chest like an acid-tinged knife blade that’s eating away at my flesh.

I press my nose into his throat and breathe deeply of his familiar dark scent. Not even the smell of the hospital pushing down on us is strong enough to diminish the comfort of it. I take in a few deep breaths, and he chuckles.

‘Are you sniffing me?’

‘Your scent turns me on. It’s both reassuring and arousing,’ I admit.

He brings me in closer, and I melt into his side. I absorb the familiarity of his strength, the heat from his body surrounding me like a warm blanket. After what seems like hours of being stressed, this is the time for me to relax. But somehow, I can’t. Somehow, I’m still on edge. A part of me wants more assurances that he’s going to be okay. That we’re going to be okay.

‘You must be knackered.’ The rumbling of his voice across his chest is another sign that he’s alive. He’s fine. Really. I try to convince myself, but my stomach still hurts from the shock I experienced when I saw the blood spilling from the wound in his chest. That acidic bite in my chest widens to a full-fledged moat of concern.

‘Ryot’—I look up at him—’are you really okay?’

He laughs. ‘This is nothing compared to some of the other wounds I’ve faced during tours.’

I can’t bring myself to smile.

He notices my seriousness and wipes the lightness he was striving for from his features. ‘I’m a former Marine. I promise you, I have survived worse,’ he says in a soothing voice.

‘Don’t dismiss my worries, please.’ I frown.

‘I’m not, baby.’ He wraps his other arm around me, not caring that there’s an IV needle sticking out from the back of his palm. ‘I’m trying to demonstrate that this is part of the life I’ve lived, and it doesn’t faze me.’

‘Well, it fazes me.’ I look away from that shrewd gaze of his, not sure how much I want to reveal of what I’m feeling. Strange huh? I wanted him to share everything with me and now that he is, I find myself pulling back. ‘I… I didn’t realize how much I was in love with you until I thought I’d lost you.’ As I say it, I realize how true my words are. ‘I love you, Ryot.’

His features soften. His eyes shine. ‘I love you too, Empress.’ He brings me in for a kiss, and I meet his lips.

I revel in the softness of his lips, the syrupy sensation invading my bloodstream as he deepens the kiss, the strength of his arms, the ungiving breadth of his shoulders, and how, despite his injury, he still overpowers me with his size and makes me feel intensely feminine. My head spins with the overwhelming emotions that I’ve been grappling with since I saw him get shot. A shudder grips me. I can’t stop my muscles from seizing up.

He instantly notices my body’s response, for his hold on me tightens. ‘What’s wrong?’

I shake my head. I’m not sure how to describe this turmoil I feel in my stomach, this tightness in my chest, this choking sensation in my throat that makes me feel like I’ll never be able to breathe properly again. Perhaps, it’s a delayed aftershock of seeing him wounded, and then praying for him in the waiting room, and now realizing that he’s going to be okay.

‘Hey, baby, it’s going to be okay.’ The beeping sound of his heart grows more persistent.

‘I’m so sorry I’m stressing you out,’ I say through my tears.

‘Hush, Empress, you’re what makes every moment of my life worthwhile. It’s because I have you in my arms that I know I’m going to be okay. From the first moment I saw you, I knew my life had changed for the better. It’s because I have you with me, that I can face down any challenge.’

He notches his knuckles under my chin, so I have to look into his beloved emerald-green eyes.

‘It’s you, Aura. Only you. I’ve been waiting for you all my life, and I didn’t even realize it. When I was shot and bleeding out, and I opened my eyes and saw you, I knew then, I found my reason for living. I knew I would survive because I wanted to live my life with you. I realized then, I had waited too long to commit completely to you. I swore, if I survived, I wouldn’t waste a moment anymore. So, here I am, baby, all yours. I am all in.’

I knew he loved me but that he was holding back. Here he is, having survived a bullet to his chest and feeling even more vital in many ways, telling me what I want to hear.

Hearing those words from his lips are a soothing balm to the tumult that the last few hours have wreaked inside of me. It feels like I’ve waited so long to hear him say that, and now when I hear his words, it feels perfect and real and momentous, all at the same time. Tremors grip me.

I hoped to find a man who’d be mine completely and utterly. Who’d look at me the way he is now. Who’d take in my features with that intensity in his eyes, that complete stillness about him which indicates he’s giving me his complete focus. To be at the center of his attention, such that every nerve-ending in my body crackles with awareness. This is a feeling I never thought I’d have, and here it is.

My husband loves me. He adores me. He’ll do anything for me. He’ll die for me. And he’s made it clear he’s finally over the ghosts of his past… So why… Oh, why do I feel this anxious?noveldrama

Why am I finding it so difficult to embrace what he’s saying?

Is it because he almost died on me, and I felt…like my entire world was going to collapse? I didn’t realize how much I’d begun to depend on him. To trust him. To want him by my side for the rest of my life.

As the ripples from what happened sink in, I realize, I’m irrevocably in love with him. If something were to happen to him, I’d never be able to withstand it. Him… He’s more important to me than… The country I’ve dedicated my life to. And that’s a shock.

It’s a reversal of everything I believe in. My world seems to tilt on its axis.

I’ve changed. My priorities have changed. And I need to process this. I need to make some decisions.

The tremors intensify.

Spine straight. You’re a princess.

And if I weren’t anymore. What then? As this possible new reality for my future sinks in, I shake my head. The thoughts intensify and crowd in.

I need to sift through these conflicting emotions. I need to make sense of what I’m feeling. Of what I must do.

Ryot’s looks me over, a shadow of unease crossing his features, “Everything okay?”

Of course, I can’t hide anything from this man.

“Everything’s perfect.” I cup his cheek. “I realized that for the first time in my life, there’s something I value more than my love for my country.”

He inclines his head. “And what’s that?”

“You,” I kiss his forehead.

When I start to lean back, he clamps his palm around the nape of her neck and brings me in for a deep, drugging kiss.

“I love you so very much,” he slows the kiss, nibbles on my lower lip, and my nipples tighten.

He licks into my mouth. ‘You’re mine, Empress. My wife. My soulmate.”

“Oh Ryot,” A tiny moan escapes me. “You mean more than anything in my life. It’s why…” I glance away then back at him. “It’s why I need time and space to think things through.”